Hermafrosts
by Anna Fugazzi
Summary: COMPLETE. Fred/Angelina, possible side of George/Angelina if you squint and tilt your head, DH-compliant. No relation to Hermione, despite the name.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This was my weasleyfest gift for reallycorking. It features het (no, really!) and gratuitous use of Wheezes. No connection to Hermione, despite the title ;)

Thanks millions to my awesome betas, scrtkpr and ayessid!

**Also:** This is DH-compliant, right? Ff.n only allows for two classifications, or I probably would've added "Angst" to the Romance/Humor. Not meant to be sad, but, you know, future Death by Masonry and all that :(

**ooo000ooo**

**8:30pm**

There was shrieking at Wheezes. There was always shrieking at Wheezes. Even when it was almost empty, Angelina heard shrieking. From the lights and the flashes and the whirls and the bangs and the laughter and the... well, the shrieking.

She grinned and stepped into the shop, shaking the rain out of her hair and looking around. Despite the overall nervous gloom of Diagon Alley, there was a huge crowd inside Wheezes, even at this late hour of the day. Kids, parents, grandparents, couples, teenagers, everyone looking either cheerful or harried. Or both.

"Oi! Captain!"

She turned to see one of the twins hurrying towards her, and it was a sign of how long she'd been away from them that she didn't immediately recognize which one.

"Merlin! What are you doing here?" asked the twin as he reached her. She returned his exuberant hug, frowning slightly; it bothered her to no end when she couldn't tell them apart. He stepped back, laughed at her expression, and tilted his head slightly, just enough so the hair slid back and she could see - ah. Right. No earlobe. She suppressed a wince.

"How are you, George?"

"Bloody useful, that," he said, turning to somebody who'd hurried up right behind him. She was shocked to recognize Lee Jordan, looking almost unrecognizable with short hair, thick glasses, and a beard and moustache. "Dunno why we never thought of self-mutilation as an aid to identification before, I'm telling you."

Lee hugged Angelina enthusiastically. "Did the extra-eared one know you were coming?"

"No, it was a spur of the moment thing."

"He'll be thrilled to see you," said George. "He's just in back right n- careful!" He shoved her down as a shower of sparks flew at them from the back of the shop. He straightened up and gave her an apologetic glance. "Sorry, I'll be back in a mo'. Bloody kids..." He hurried towards the source of the sparks.

Angelina glanced around at the controlled chaos of the shop. It was packed, as usual. Probably more than usual, as it was the first day of the Easter weekend. How the twins could live with so much bloody noise was unbelievable, but they thrived in it. She did too, normally - loved crowds, excitement, fun. Just not to this insane degree.

"So you just decided to drop by?" Lee asked. "Where the hell have you been, by the way?"

"Nowhere exciting," she said with a grimace. "I've missed everyone."

"Well we've missed you too, but..." he trailed off as George came hurrying back.

"I've got fake papers," Angelina shrugged. "Can't lie low all the time. And this isn't a bad place to go, if you're looking to be among wizards but not run into any of the wrong ones."

"Yeah, that's what I figured too," said Lee. "Busy weekend, persons of interest less likely to be noticed. Particularly if they're as cleverly disguised as I am."

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I still think you're an idiot for risking it," he said. "You know we're being watched, you berk." He turned to Angelina. "And you do know the Ministry's doing random spot-checks on papers, right? I dunno where you got yours, but-"

"I got them so I wouldn't have to be in permanent hiding or leave the wizarding world entirely," Angelina said defensively. "What's the use of having them if I'm too scared to use them?"

George nodded. "Yeah, we know, but... just be careful, right? Some Muggle-borns get the choice of leaving or being sent to Azkaban. Those with fake papers... don't."

Angelina scowled. "_You_ telling me to be careful. That's rich."

"We're pureblood as the driven snow, mate. We've even got the papers to prove it." He grimaced in disgust. "Me and Fred wanted to put them to best use in the loo after we got them, but Lee convinced us to keep 'em. Poor Dad, handing them out to all of us when they came in. Thought he was going to be sick."

"So are you saying I'm not brave enough to take risks?"

"Think I'm saying you're being brave enough just by staying in the wizarding world at all. Don't need to add foolish to brave." He startled as rain started to fall on them and sounds of protest erupted from the other customers. "Bugger! 'Scuse me. Oh and go see Fred, he's in the workroom."

She smiled at Lee and slowly made her way to the back of the shop, pausing at the door of the long, narrow workroom. Fred was stirring something in a cauldron, muttering under his breath, a lurid purple parchment floating in the air next to him.

"...fifty-six, fifty-seven." He stopped, stepped back and waved his wand over the cauldron. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid potion yellow!"

The potion glowed a bright gold, and Fred laughed in delight.

"Is that even a proper incantation?" Angelina said, grinning, and Fred turned around, surprised. His face lit up.

"Angelina!" He started towards her, then stopped and put up a hand as she came closer. "Wait, sorry, hang on-" he did a few complex waves of his wand. "Sorry, I'd go over there and try to snog you breathless right now but I'm in the middle of something here. Have to wait a mo'."

"Tossed over for a potion, am I?"

"Every time. This potion brings me Galleons. You bring me nothing but your sunny disposition and fickle womanly wiles."

Angelina leaned against the door as he finished a rather intricate series of wand movements.

"There," he said with satisfaction, finally putting down his wand and covering the cauldron.

"What was that?" Angelina asked, partly to cover her slight discomfort as he came closer. Not that he would actually try to snog her breathless, but Fred did have an odd way of joking about the fact that they had once gone out together, and she'd broken up with him.

He hugged her close, then stepped back, still holding her arm, beaming at her. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Didn't think we'd be seeing you anywhere around for months."

"Not going to scold me, are you?"

"Why would I?" He grinned at her sceptical look. "If you came to the workroom it's because George told you I was here and undid the wards for you. And if George did that, he's already told you that you should be more careful. You have been duly castigated by the Weasley Twins, which leaves me off the hook. So where the devil have you been?"

"Working with some animal Healers on the Isle of Man. Informal apprenticeship."

"You got in? Good for you!" He squeezed her arm lightly. "So, how is it?"

"Erm, good. The cases are interesting. The Healers are wonderful." She paused.

"And?"

Angelina sighed. "And I've talked to more sheep than people in months."

"Not great conversationalists, sheep. I've heard." He looked back as the cauldron made a sound like 'Ahem'. "Oh bugger I have to stir this thing. Here," he motioned her to follow him into the workroom, pulled a stool out from under a work table and placed it a few feet away from the active cauldron. "Sit here, would you? And don't come any closer, this cauldron's finicky."

She sat watching him work, smiling at the small frown of concentration on his face, his busy hands, his purple parchment slowly filling with acid green words. Happy to watch somebody else work, for a change. Somebody who seemed to be enjoying his task, which probably didn't involve animal dung as much as hers usually did.

"Mr. Weasley?" A lovely blonde poked her head into the workroom.

"Yeah?"

"The Frisbees are upset again and I can't find their cheering charms," she said, glancing at Angelina curiously.

"Sorry, you told me we were running low on them yesterday, didn't you? Hang on, I'll find some." Fred smiled at the woman and started to rifle through a drawer. "Oh this is a friend of ours, Angelina. Angelina, Verity." He opened another drawer as the two of them exchanged polite nods, then he gave a triumphant _Aha_. "Here, catch," he said, and tossed a small box at Verity. She caught it, gave him a brilliant grin, and hurried off as he turned back to his cauldron, an absent smile on his face.

Ah, yes, the hired help. Angelina gave herself a mental shake. Because really, Fred's teasing aside, she really did want to be just friends with him. And she had absolutely no call to feel that jealous little burn at the way he smiled at his beautiful shop assistant.

"What are you working on?"

"Music potion. It's not that difficult, but I'm at the tricky part right now." He added some droplets to the potion, counting each drop. "Oh, yeah, don't say anything that has sibilants," he said distractedly.

"What?"

"Esses. As soon as the last drop goes in. _Sh_ or _th_ is all right, not _ss_."

"Sibi-" he waved at her impatiently and stoppered the small bottle, putting it away. "What do you mean? Do they interfere with the... charm?" She'd almost said Spell.

"Yeah. Make a hell of a bang, too."

"Like the di- erm, vanishing charm Flitwick taught?"

"Yeah, but only louder. Don't worry, it won't take more than an hour," he said, stirring carefully. "Either watch your vocabulary or... lithp."

"Right."

"You've been on the Isle the whole time, then?"

"Yeah."

"Not been in contact with anyone?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no one other than my family. Keep up with Katie and Leanne by owl a bit, but..."

"And who were you dating again?"

Angelina swiftly suppressed her annoyance and her... was that a twinge of hurt pride? over Fred's offhand tone. "Derek. Not with him any more," she said, hoping her tone would put him off. Not only did she not want to discuss another boyfriend with Fred, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to find substitute non-sibilant words for "self-absorbed bastard" or "miserable arsewipe."

She glanced around the workroom. It was somewhat more organized than it had been the last time she'd seen it, though that had been a long time ago. The cauldrons were still arranged in a row along one wall at the back of the room, but now there were six of them, fairly high-quality ones to boot, three of them currently bubbling. Long, narrow work tables lined the other side wall at the back of the room, and a bulletin board covered with a range of notices, ads, appointments, photographs, news clippings, and scrawled messages spanned the entire back wall. At the front of the room both walls were lined with cupboards and shelves groaning under the weight of the various ingredients, packaging materials, and finished products.

Fred was frowning and muttering under his breath to the parchment hanging next to him while she looked at the bulletin board. Funny how completely identical Fred and George were in so many ways, yet the differences were there for anyone who knew them well. Fred's neat, precise writing - such a sharp contrast to George's untidy scrawl. She puzzled over a back-and-forth:

_antlers?_

not good

_maybe 4zu_

do it

_done_

87h65

_take that back_

Cartoons, invoices, and a Blood Status certificate:

_Name: Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, Ickle Tommiekins. Occupation: Snakeface. Blood Status: Pure-shit._

"You hypocrite, warning other people about taking... rithkth," she said, feeling silly at the lisp, and jumping slightly as the cauldron next to Fred's hiccupped and sent ash into the air. "D'you have any idea how much trouble that thing could get you in? It could bloody well get you killed!"

"Anything can get you killed," Fred laughed, brushing ash out of his hair, and Angelina ignored the urge to brush off the last bit of ash that clung to a lock in the front. Longer hair suited him, she decided. She'd always had a weakness for his hair; on both him and George, it was like a bright beacon, a perfect match to their personalities. She wondered if they'd made a conscious decision to grow it, partially hiding George's injury and keeping them looking identical.

All right, _not_ cool, now she was sort of staring, and only Fred's preoccupation with his potion was keeping him unaware of it. She cast about for a distraction.

"What..." she rolled her eyes. No help for it. "What ith that thmell?"

"You tell me," he said, flashing her a quick smile.

She breathed in deeply. "Quidditch leather. And... thinnamon?"

"Really?" Fred dipped a small spoon into the potion and blew on it. "I get Quidditch leather, lilac, and chocolate. A cup of very diluted Amortentia went in here in the beginning." He poured the spoonful of potion into a small bowl and set it on the counter.

"What for?"

"We add it to a lot of what we make. Just makes it more pleasant to work with."

"But what about-" she stopped, and frowned. "Wait, you just said-" He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. "You twit."

"Had you going, didn't I? I was trying to figure out how to get you to recite 'the sixth sheik's sixth sheep's sick,' but I must be losing my touch."

She shook her head as he chuckled. "So it doesn't do anything else? The Amortentia, I mean."

"No, really doesn't. And we put warnings on products where it's strong enough to have any effect." She raised her eyebrows at him in mild disbelief. "Have to grow up sometime, right?"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"It's true! For some things, anyway."

"Such as?"

He shook his head. "Ah, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Oh, hang on, if I don't pay attention to this next step I might actually kill you."

She looked around the workroom again. God, how she'd missed this. And she'd missed him, so much - his sense of humour, his making light of even the darkest situations, his optimism...

Maybe that was why she hated him taking their break-up so lightly. Because it might have been the right thing to do, but that didn't mean she didn't regret it a little, even two years later. And he just seemed to find the whole thing funny.

"Looks like the business is doing well," she noted. "So what's it like, being such a successful entrepreneur?"

"Bloody exhausting, to be honest. Haven't even gone outside much lately, other than for Secret Things."

"Yeah?"

"We're generally up at dawn, get breakfast, restock the shelves, open up, don't even get a chance to sit till the place closes down for the night. After closing is cleaning up, taking inventory, starting to make tomorrow's stock and filling mail orders. We're both usually in bed by eleven and bloody exhausted."

"Can't you hire somebody to help?"

"We did. Verity," he said, stirring briskly and peering at his mixture. "We're going to need somebody else soon; we've got scarce more than an hour here or there to invent or buy ingredients or what have you. There is such a thing as too much success."

And yet here he was, late at night after a full day's work, still bubbling with manic energy. "You could slow down," Angelina said, amused. "Take some time for yourselves."

"Yes, Mum," he grinned at her. "It's fun, though. Neither of us minds. Won't be like this forever; we've only been in business two years. I figure at some point we'll get tired of dealing with customers and devote ourselves to mostly just inventing. Too hard to stay away right now, though. The customers are one of the more interesting parts of the job."

A strangled scream erupted from the shop and the workroom lights blinked, making Fred's head jerk up. He gave a short laugh and went back to the potion, suspending it.

"Speaking of customers, hang on a bit, will you? I've got to go give George back-up."

"What is it?"

"Enforcing shop policy," he said, and hurried out. Angelina followed him to the front of the shop.

"What the hell is that?!" a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, was yelling, as his companion choked on what looked like an enormous quantity of foam spurting from his mouth. A strong smell of lemon-scented cleaning solution wafted through the air. George had just reached them and he and Fred exchanged grim smiles.

"He wasn't even touching anything! What the hell?!"

Three other boys had now gathered around the mouth-foaming boy.

"Sorry, boys, your friend's got to leave," Fred said coolly. "Shop policy."

"What?!"

He nodded at a sign hanging by the front door. _No foul language_.

"What? He wasn't swearing!" protested one of the boy's friends.

"'Fraid he was."

The boy's father had shown up. "Brent? What the-" He turned to the twins. "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry sir, but this is a family-friendly business," George said calmly. "We can't have foul language here. Your son will have to leave the premises."

The man's face darkened. "What did you say?!" he asked his son.

"He didn't say anything wrong!" said the tallest of the boy's companions. "He was just telling us about Rosie Muller, you know, the stupid Mudblood bi-" and the second boy's mouth filled with soap as well. By now a few other customers had stopped to gape at them.

"Oh dear, you'll have to go too now," Fred said. "Don't worry, the soap disappears once you're out on the street. You'll have a minty aftertaste for a while though. Too bad Fortescue's gone missing; ice cream always gets rid of the taste."

"You - that's -" the father was clearly having trouble trying to figure out what to say.

"That's all right sir," said George. "They can come back once they've learned some manners."

"You've got a lot of nerve," the man said, his face darkening even further.

Fred crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Our shop. Our rules."

"Sensitive to 'Muggle-borns,' are you?" the man sneered, and Angelina clenched her fists, shocked at the rage that suddenly flashed through her. The man glanced at the Blood Status certificates tacked on the wall next to the door. "And you a pair of purebloods, too. Should be ashamed of yourselves, filthy little blood traitors." He paused, then laughed unpleasantly. "Oh that doesn't get caught by your little profanity detector?"

"No sir, because that's not foul language, you see," said George. "It's just poor manners."

"And it's not a label we're particularly ashamed of either," Fred added, his voice steely. "It might be best if you all run along now."

"I'll be telling our friends not to come here!" said the shortest boy, glaring at them.

"Oh would you?" George said brightly. "Thanks ever so! Saves us asking you to do it for us."

"Don't think the Ministry won't hear about this!" said the father.

"Why, do they need to be taught some manners too?" asked Fred.

Angelina felt a pang of alarm. Lee had appeared behind George, and now put a hand on his elbow. "Oi, George, Verity needs your help back here..."

George and Fred waited, stony-faced, as the man and the four boys left the shop, then glanced at each other and went their separate ways, George heading off with Lee and Fred pushing past Angelina and heading for the workroom again.

Angelina stood still, getting her breathing under control again.

Godric's balls. This was what was going on in the wizarding world? She was better off with her sheep.

She drew closer to the two certificates on the wall, reading them. In stark contrast to all the other colourful ads and posters and decorations that glistened or pulsed or trilled, carefully and attractively arranged, on almost all available wall space, the two certificates were tacked up carelessly, hanging askew. _Frederick J. Weasley, April 1, 1978. Occupation: shop owner, Diagon Alley. Blood Status: Pureblood_, said one. It had a sepia-toned ring over part of it, as though a teacup had been set on it, and one corner was slightly singed. _George K. Weasley, April 1, 1978. Occupation: shop owner, Diagon Alley. Blood Status: Pureblood_. It was wrinkled and had three games of noughts and crosses on it, and a rip along one side.

She returned to the workroom to find Fred back at his cauldron, a set expression on his face.

"Fred..." she said, coming up behind him.

"What?"

"You need to be more careful."

He picked up one of the flasks from the counter and threw it against the wall, and Angelina jumped as it shattered. "Fred!"

Fred was standing with his back to her, head bowed and staring down into his cauldron for a long moment. "I hate this," he said, his voice low.

Angelina nodded.

"D'you know we had to go to the fucking Ministry office to apply for those papers? All of us in the Alley did. The only way we're even allowed to stay in business is if we can prove we got our magic 'rightfully.' Bastards. Making us recite our bloody ancestry, like it makes any fucking difference at all how many Prewetts and Potters and Malfoys and Longbottoms there are on our family tree."

He turned and grimaced apologetically. "Shit. Sorry. Bit stupid, whinging to you about it. Bit like complaining about Gringott's fees to someone who doesn't have a vault, yeah?"

"I don't know, I'm... I don't have to deal with this most of the time. I'm pretty isolated from all of it on the Isle. Which is why I went there. I could see how it must be frustrating." Angelina trailed off, feeling like she was flailing a bit. "I just... I don't want you to get hurt. George said that you know they're watching you. Getting into arguments like that doesn't help."

"Angelina. They know our loyalties. We've the right to toss people out of our shop if we want. I don't care what the Ministry thinks of it, it's not illegal. Yet," he added grimly.

"Still, you..." she trailed off as his lips pressed together, and realized it was probably a bad idea to continue this vein. Bit like George scolding her about her papers. She sat back down and motioned him to get back to his potion, and cast about for something to say as he picked up a long spoon and got back to work. "How... how's Ginny?"

"Oh, she's having a wonderful year at school," Fred said, his tone casual once more, stirring carefully. "Snape's Headmaster, you know. She says there's been a lot of changes to the curriculum. Half of Potions is now devoted to shampoo research, and Filch looks like he's on a year-long honeymoon. But other than that, she's having a lovely time."

"Have you... have you heard anything from Ron?" she asked cautiously.

"Nope," he said. "Not since Bill's wedding. Though Bill told us he saw him at Christmas. Didn't come to the Burrow - probably scared he'd have to sit near Auntie Muriel."

"That was three months ago," she said slowly.

Fred shrugged. "He should be fine, especially if he took along the book we gave him. Remember Oliver and his How to Charm Witches book? As long as he remembers what it says, it's possible Hermione won't kill him."

Angelina frowned. "You know, there is such a thing as taking things too lightly. Doesn't it bother you, all this going on in your own family?"

He looked up at her, and his eyes narrowed.

"Bother us? Our baby sister's in a bloody snake pit. Our kid brother's God only knows where, and that's assuming he's still alive." He crossed his arms. "Our dad's working at the Ministry and being watched, Mum cries all the time, all the hands on our clock point to Mortal Danger, Bill's... not doing well, come full moons, though he and Fleur clearly think nobody can tell, Charlie's probably safest of all of us, with his dragons - and if you can say that with a straight face, you've got some serious problems - and Percy the Prat may be a fucking turncoat and a scumbag but he's in a bloody hell of a lot of danger too because of the rest of us. Oh and George still gets dizzy spells from losing his ear, drives him mental." He paused for breath. "Am I missing anyone? Oh right, the Order's gone deeper underground, Lee's probably going to get himself killed doing Potterwatch, and Hagrid's on the run. Half our friends are scared for their lives and the only reason we're not on the run too is because of those _filthy fucking pieces of paper_ that we're forced to tack onto the wall at the front of our shop in order to stay open. Why on earth would any of that bother us?"

He turned away from her and stirred the cauldron again. She realized her mouth was open.

"I... I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You thought we were in our little bubble of noise and clashing colours, blissfully unaware of the world around us? Thanks, Ange."

She bit her lip. Why was it that, even though she was the one who'd ditched him, he could still make her feel like this?

"I'm sorry."

"Did you know Remus Lupin's on the run too?" He sprinkled some multi-coloured flecks into the cauldron. "Yeah, his wife's about to have a baby, but he's had to go to ground again. Turns out all werewolves are supposed to be working for You-Know-Who, so he's trying to stay one step ahead of what he calls 'the Death Eater's Pound.' Might not even be there for the birth. Wonderful world we're all living in."

The door opened abruptly. "So I said to the naked lady with the salami in her hand, 'That's a duck, not a chicken,'" George was saying as he and Lee came into the workroom, and Lee laughed.

"Oh not that one again, George!" Fred groaned.

"Oi, I was right about the Weller display, by the way," said George.

"Didn't sell?"

George shook his head. "Told you. It was Sigmund."

"Sigmund shouldn't've made any difference, though, if it didn't-"

"-which it did-"

"-but when we charmed it-

"-twice-"

"-it wouldn't've gone 634 on us-"

"You're still doing Potterwatch, then?" Angelina asked Lee as the twins devolved into incomprehensible shop talk. Or rather, twin talk, because their shorthand didn't need to have anything to do with their business to be incomprehensible to anybody but Lee.

"Yeah, though we've been off for a bit. Almost got raided a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, we were wondering what was going on. Next password's still Albus, isn't it?"

"Yeah. You listen?"

"Whenever we can. All of us do at the clinic."

Lee looked thrilled. "Our next broadcast's this weekend." He beamed at her. "Great to know we've got listeners. Makes it seem worthwhile, you know?"

"I dunno what I would've done without it, these last few months. Seems like the world's gone to hell and most people are just going right along with it."

"Not all of us."

Angelina nodded, then looked closer at him. "I didn't know you needed glasses."

"These? Oh they're fake," he said, and took them off. It was astonishing how his appearance altered without them. "They make me look like I'm practically blind, but they're actually perfectly clear."

"You're trying to not be recognized, then?"

"Yeah, have been for a while now."

"Have a price on your head too?"

"No, and it's a little insulting. I'm a bona fide troublemaker, I am, and it's demeaning to know that I'm only 'wanted for questioning about persons of interest.' Tells me I'm not doing enough to - oi!" Lee scowled at George, who had just cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Don't be so bloody eager to be worth a large bounty, Jordan," George said irately. "Get stupid enough about it and I'll hand you in myself and pocket the reward."

"You already almost got taken in by that raid-" Fred said.

"They were going to take all our equipment!"

"Told you we'd replace it, you berk," said Fred. "What's the bloody point of making loads of Galleons if you can't use it to fund a rebellion?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lee muttered, and Angelina chuckled at his put-upon, but pleased, expression.

There was a short pause. "Right. Well, we're off, then," said George.

"We are?" Lee asked, surprised.

"You don't have to go," Fred muttered.

"Yeah, we do," said George.

"We do?" Lee asked.

"Almost nine; closing time. Have to shoo the last customers out."

"But I thought Verity - oi!" Lee glared at George, then there was some kind of subtle interplay of kicks or something, and George and Lee were leaving the room, and Angelina could swear Fred was glaring daggers at George's back. She blinked and the moment was gone; Fred was looking just as cheerful as before.

"Sorry, Ange, I've still got to-"

"No, that's all right." She glanced around. "D'you mind if I have a look around?"

"What? Oh yeah, looking's all right." He paused for a moment, frowning in thought. "Yeah. Yeah, it's definitely all right to look, we've got the Gorgon-paste in the cupboard with the goggles now."

Angelina took a closer look around the bizarre place. The cupboards were decidedly off-limits, then, but the shelves sported boxes and boxes of ingredients, sorted by colour, it seemed, with ingredients stacked loudest on top, quietest on the bottom. The work tables were a riot of products in various stages of completion.

"What's this?" She nodded at a stack of odd crispy cakes on one table.

Fred looked up. "Elephant Ears. American thing, it's a pastry. Ours make you actually grow ears. Not quite ready; we can't get rid of the weird wrinkled-skin side-effect. Oh and the uncontrolled trumpeting's funny, but a bit of a nuisance too. Too loud."

"What are you working on?"

"Right now? Trying to get our bloody Lovebirds to not shit all over the place. We've got them to sing out really, really horrible love songs - don't ever tell Mum, but we used Celestina Warbreck for inspiration - but they shit copiously. It's quite disgusting. We're playing with the singing potion, adding in a bit of U-No-Poo and hoping it does the trick."

Angelina laughed. Her life seemed so much less exciting. Not that the Healers and sheep weren't nice, but this, this was... this was magic. She felt a pang of longing.

"What's in that one?" she pointed to a potion bubbling slowly two cauldrons down.

"Edible lightning scars. They sell really well, though George thinks they might really piss off Harry when he gets back." He stepped back from the cauldron and started chopping what looked like small butterfly wings. "It's one of the products we're not advertising much. It's hard for the Ministry to say anything about them though, because there's nothing overtly wrong with them; they're not fomenting rebellion or anything. We've got a few others like that."

"Like what?"

"Well, Mad-Eyes - Insane Orbs, we call them. Edible. Make you bark out 'Eternal Paranoia.' They're not big sellers, but we figured, you know, out of respect for the man, we'd keep them on the shelf for a while." He peered at his cauldron for a moment before adding more wings.

"What are these?" Angelina pointed to a part of a work table that looked somewhat neater than most, with dozens of tiny multi-coloured frosted fairy cakes and tarts on trays. Fred glanced back.

"George's. Nearly ready to go, mostly." He brought his attention back to the cauldron as it let out a long hiss.

"Nearly?"

"Yeah, they're - well, George's been wanting to get into an adult line for a while now, so he's been working on some rather unusual things. Not all of it's all that risqué, just... you know. Singing underwear, things like that. Some of them are funny as hell, but not anything we can really tell Mum about. Though he did end up with a few that aren't naughty at all." He glanced back at her, grinned. "I wouldn't get too close to that one," he said, nodding at the small pink tart she'd picked up. "You don't need it, for one thing."

"Why not?"

"That's supposed to, erm, enhance you if you're a girl. George swears he's worked out the bugs, but..." he chuckled. "See, last week he had the worst time trying to fix the effects on one of our testers." Angelina raised her eyebrows and Fred grinned. "They were big, they were pretty, and they were _rock solid_."

"Oh God."

"And they weighed a ton. George couldn't stop laughing. She wasn't amused. He offered to pay her extra for the pain and suffering and I think that would've been all right with her if he hadn't been still pissing himself giggling as he handed over the Galleons. Pretty sure we've lost her as a tester."

"You don't say."

"Another one turns you into a hell of a handsome bloke with a tackle the size of a Beater's bat, or into a goose. Possibly a turkey. He hasn't worked out all the kinks yet. Not that the whole thing isn't kinky, but you know what I mean." He glanced back. "The ones on that tray are all ready to go, just need marketing."

"The fairy cakes?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her. "Give one a try."

"I'm really not stupid enough to try anything from you two. Especially if it hasn't even been out in the market yet."

"Your distrust wounds me. I'll take one too, then." Fred grinned, holding out his hand, still watching the bubbling cauldron. "Come on, I dare you."

Bloody hell, she was going to regret this. She usually did, when it came to Fred and George.

No, she didn't. That was the stupid thing. All the shit they'd pulled, and she still couldn't remember any of it without a smile.

She picked up two of the tiny frosted fairy cakes - white, she really didn't trust the lurid green frosting on some of them - and handed one to Fred. He grinned, still watching the cauldron bubble. "Ready?"

"I'm an idiot. But yeah, ready."

"One, two, three," he said, and they both ate their fairy cakes in one bite.

They were slightly mint-flavoured, she had time to notice, before a siren went off and the door to the workroom door suddenly slammed shut.

"What the-" Fred jerked up, eyes wide.

"What the hell is that?!" Angelina asked, and something was wrong, something was very wrong, she was tingling all over and the door had slammed shut and both of those things would've been perfectly fine, except that whatever had just happened, Fred had not been expecting it.

"What just happened?"

Fred glanced at her. "I don't - your voice." He cleared his throat, hummed briefly. "Oh bloody hell. Angelina, what did you just give me?"

"One of these!" She showed him, and Fred closed his eyes.

"Bugger."

"What happened?" The odd tingling was getting worse, oh God, what was happening to her- "Why did the siren-"

"You all right in there?" George's voice came through the door.

"Yeah," Fred said, sounding annoyed. "Just took the wrong product."

"Which one?"

"One of yours." He glanced at the tray on the counter. "G11-5."

"Why did-"

"I told Angelina the ones on the tray were safe. Didn't see there were unfinished ones there too. "

Angelina frowned. "I didn't-"

"No, my fault, sorry. White-coloured products are not quite ready. Should've told you."

"Oh! Hang on, can you write down what's going on?" George said.

"Right." Fred searched for a bit and found a parchment and quill.

"What are you looking for?" Angelina asked, Fred's annoyance calming her down a bit. "Why is the door closed?"

"Don't worry about that," Fred said absently, tossing aside the quill after it emitted a loud fart sound and picking up another one that sighed happily. "It does that automatically whenever we're testing. Some of our experiments get a little dangerous. Lost too much inventory that way in the first few months; either they escaped and caused havoc in the shop, or we did." He rifled through the drawer for some ink. "Now when we test, the door closes automatically, till the effect of the product goes away or is counteracted." He found a bottle of ink and filled his quill.

"Fred?" George asked.

"So it'll open up as soon as we take the antidote?" Angelina asked, feeling a bit better.

"Got a quill, ask away!" Fred called out to George. "Yeah, of course. We never test anything without the antidote ready."

Angelina nodded.

Tingling. Heat. And an odd sense of... change. Or something.

"Snape, great git that he is, has to be given credit: he did teach antidotes well. Anyway." Fred cleared his throat. "Ready!"

"Right, so, what are the effects?"

"Erm." Fred looked at Angelina, seeming at a bit of a loss for words.

"How d'you feel?" George prompted him.

"This is one of your adult line, isn't it?"

"G11-5? Yeah, the whole 11 set is."

"Yeah, see," Fred ran a hand through his hair. "I thought we were taking the voice-change ones."

"That was 11-15."

"Right. Well. Erm. Feeling a bit, erm..."

"Randy?" George laughed.

Fred laughed. "Yeah. Just a bit."

Angelina closed her eyes. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now that she was able to think about it without fearing that she was about to die a horrible death, that was indeed what the tingling felt like. "This is a love potion, then?" she asked George.

"No, those are different," George chuckled. "He wouldn't feel anything physical then."

"Erm. I'm..." Angelina trailed off, suddenly aware of something else that felt very, very wrong. "Fred, turn around."

He looked puzzled, but turned around, and she opened her trousers and looked down.

Oh God.

She had a penis.

"Fred?" George prompted him. "Feeling any nausea?"

"No, hang on, Angelina's checking something."

There was a small silence. "Oh fuck. Angelina, you didn't take one, did you?" George asked.

"Yeah," she said flatly, still staring down at herself.

"Ah." George cleared his throat. "All right. Sorry, totally unexpected side effect on that one. Would not have wanted you to try it out. It'll go away, I swear."

"What will?" Fred asked. He paused for a moment. "Oh Merlin this wasn't the one with the-"

"Yeah."

Fred groaned.

"What?" Lee asked.

George chuckled. "Erm, side-effect I'm trying to get rid of. Turns girls into boys." There was a guffaw from Lee. "Well, not totally. Just gives them boy bits along with their own girl bits. Have been thinking of marketing them as that; Hermafrosts or something. Still need fine-tuning; either get rid of the girl bits, or get rid of the massive stiffie effect."

"Feeling a bit frisky, then, Angelino?" Lee asked, laughing.

Angelina did up her trousers, her face flaming.

She was going to kill George. And Fred. And Lee, who was howling with laughter. Kill them all.

She had a penis. A distressingly fully functional penis.

Kill. Them.

"What's it do to men?" Lee asked.

"Just the stiffie."

"'Just,' he says." Fred grimaced, adjusting himself. "Thanks. Thanks a million, George. Well, this isn't awkward at all."

"OK, so how else d'you-"

"George, not really interested in doing more observations right now," Fred said tightly. "Where's the antidote?"

George laughed. "You're no fun. This could be a real chance to bond. You show her yours if she'll show you-"

"George!"

"Second drawer."

Fred shot Angelina an apologetic look and opened the drawer. "George, where's the antidote?" he asked after a moment.

"Second drawer, I said." There was a pause. "Oh, shit. I forgot, I ran out last night."

Fred blew out his breath. "Wonderful. How long does it take to brew it?"

"About an hour. Instructions in the drawer."

"Wonderful. Thanks. This is lovely. That's a whole day's work down the drain, because I'll have to stop the work I was doing in order to make this stupid antidote." He glanced at the ingredients, shifting slightly to adjust himself again. "Bugger, and doing it like this, too... hard to concentrate." He paused. "How long does the effect last?"

"Haven't tested for longevity yet. Theoretically... erm, should be about sixteen hours."

Oh _shit_.

"Brilliant." Fred wasn't looking at her, and his face was looking a bit rosy. "Waiting it out is not an option, then."

"Well, best get on it," George said apologetically. "You know it wasn't supposed to be tested, though."

"Right." Fred started to gather the ingredients. "Where's the shrivelfig?"

"Isn't there a package of it under the counter?"

"No. I told you we were out a week ago."

There was a profound silence.

"George."

Silence.

Fred walked to the door. "Please tell me you got more shrivelfig."

More silence.

"Oh, fuck." Fred leaned against the door. "No. Please tell me you didn't forget."

"Erm... I forgot."

"Oh my God." Fred slid down to the floor and sat down heavily.

Angelina frowned. "Wait, what? The door won't open until this wears off or you brew the antidote, and you don't have the ingredients for the antidote?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah," George said apologetically.

"Are you fucking _insane_?! Who the hell came up with this idea?!" Briefly Angelina wondered if the Hermafrost had gifted her with extra testosterone along with the penis, because she was definitely feeling a rather manly urge to throttle somebody.

Then again, that was all too often a perfectly natural reaction to being around the twins.

"Look, if a tester's in mortal danger it'll open," George said. "And it's worked so far for us-"

"What time does the Apothecary open?" asked Lee.

"Eight," said Fred and George.

"That's in twelve hours!" Angelina exclaimed.

"Why the hell did you have the thing on the countertop without the antidote or even the ingredients to make it?!" Fred asked.

"Well I didn't think you'd be handing them out to anybody when they were-"

"Is there any way of getting rid of the effects?" Angelina broke in.

There was another pause. "Other than having sex, no," George said.

"We can't... you know, wank it away?" Angelina could feel her face flaming.

"No," said Fred. "That's part of its charm. Charming, isn't it?" He crossed his arms on his knees and put his head down.

"Which is part of why they're not ready for market yet," George said defensively. "They'll come with the antidote and the idea is nobody'll take them without the antidote nearby, but just in case they do, I don't want anybody to be in pain or anything. I'm trying to make sure the effect lasts no more than an hour, no matter what you do or don't do."

"This is unbelievable!" groaned Angelina.

"They're not ready for market!" George protested.

Fred lifted his head and took a deep breath. "Would I be right that in Angelina's case, that means her brand new... equipment would have to be put to use?"

"Yeah, pretty much," said George, and Fred dropped his face into his arms again.

"Merlin, George," said Lee. "Quite the cock-up you've made here."

"Not all that funny, Lee," Fred said tightly.

"I'm sorry!" George said. "Bugger. I'm seriously sorry."

"Yeah, bugger. Good choice of word, mate," said Lee. "Bugger is what she's going to have to do if she doesn't want to spend the next twelve hours in there with a rock-hard-"

"I didn't think-"

"Which is why you have lab rules, George, come on!"

"But-"

"All right, new rule," Fred interrupted, his head still on his crossed arms and his voice slightly muffled. "How's this?" He cleared his throat. "Anyone who's _not_ currently locked in the bloody work room contemplating twelve hours of painful blue balls versus losing his virginity and/or having his ex-girlfriend bugger him, and, more importantly," he lifted his head, "is also responsible for putting someone _else_ in that unenviable position because he FUCKING WELL FORGOT TO BUY THE FUCKING ANTIDOTE INGREDIENTS, doesn't get to talk." He paused. "How's that?"

There was a short silence.

"I think George would like me to tell you that that's an excellent new rule, and entirely fair," came Lee's cautious voice. "But I can't be sure about that, as he's not speaking."

"Good on George, then." Fred put his head on his arms again. "I may not have to kill him after we get out of here after all."

"I think George would like me to ask if you'd prefer he do the honours," Lee said.

"The honours?" asked Angelina.

"The George-killing, I think." There was a pause. "Yes, the George-killing. We can take care of that for you, if you'd like. If it'll make you feel any better."

"I think George is not so much offering out of a desire for atonement," said Fred through gritted teeth. "He's offering because he's a bloody coward. Because he doesn't know what I'm going to do to him when I get out of here, but he knows it won't be pretty. I think if anybody's going to kill George, it should be me."

"Would you like us to have things ready for you? Sharp knives, perhaps?" There was a pause. "Dull knives? Other untested products?"

"Why don't you two go look up virgin sacrifices? They're supposedly wickedly powerful; I'll start a new line of defence products powered by the magic from doing him in. Seeing as how _I_ may not qualify as a virgin any more, thanks to him, and that's probably a sentence none of us should repeat out of context."

"Admirably fair and most reasonable, George thinks. And shrewdly practical, from a business perspective."

"Good on George."

"We're off to look up virgin sacrifices, then. And possibly conjure an altar."

"Good idea." Fred sat back against the wall and glanced at Angelina apologetically. "Angie, this is really, _really_ not what I had in mind when I dared you to test those things."

"Yeah, I gathered." Angelina cleared her throat and came to sit down next to Fred, realizing as she did so that she was hyper sensitized to her own body. And hyper aware of his. Might have been a lovely feeling, had she actually asked for it. "Look, this isn't going to... damage us, is it? If we don't..."

"Don't ask me, I'm not the perv who invented the stupid things. I thought they were just going to change our voices. Was not anticipating a stiffie so hard it could drill through the bloody floor." He glanced at her groin. "Especially not on you."

"Well you two have been dealing in love potions for years, haven't you? You must know-"

"_Love_ potions. The kind that make you spout blither about undying devotion and compare your darling's eyes to fresh pickled toads. Not turn you into a walking erection. Told you, these are brand new." He glanced at her groin again. "That's really rather impressive, you know. If I wasn't bloody intimidated by it, I'd be incredibly envious." He sighed. "And if I was wired differently I might even be all anticipatory right now." He frowned, pursed his lips. "Hm. That's an idea, now that I think of it, changing sexual orientation... maybe a line of sweets to turn folks... Gaybars? Poofballs? No, that sounds insulting. Maybe charmed knick-knacks: Bicurios."

"Fred, I'm serious," Angelina said impatiently. "We're not going to be damaged if we don't do it, are we?"

"I don't think so." He shrugged. "Look, I can't say for sure, but I really don't think so. It's just going to be ruddy uncomfortable until we get the antidote." He ran a hand through his hair. "I am so seriously going to kill George."

"This feels so incredibly..." She drew her knees up, mirroring Fred's position, suppressing a moan as her knickers pressed against her straining flesh. "Feels like my whole bloodflow is _right there_. It's all I can think of."

"Welcome to ages thirteen through eighteen for your average boy."

"What about you?" she glanced down quickly, looked away.

"Uncomfortable." He cleared his throat, shifted slightly. "Very."

"You're sure we... you know... can't take care of these? Erm... individually?"

"Don't think so. I mean, you're welcome to try, I'll even turn around so you can have some privacy - or I can show you how, if you'd rather." He leered at her. "Give you a helping hand, as it were. But it wouldn't surprise me if it doesn't go away like that. Apparently the point of them is you stay hard until you satisfy your lover. Don't think it counts if your lover is yourself."

"You know, it's funny," Angelina said, closing her eyes and laying her head back against the wall. "When I came into the shop I was remembering all the reasons we went out. And wondering why we broke up." She heaved a sigh. "It's all coming back to me now."

Fred snorted. "Thanks, Angie. You always know how to bring a note of cheer into even the worst situation."

Angelina opened her eyes and glared at him. "Well excuse me if I don't care to end up in ridiculous situations like this every other day. You could've labelled the products properly."

"Told you, they're _test_ products. We know what they are based on the colour of-"

"Well _I_ didn't know, did I?"

"Wasn't expecting you to be in here. Or change your mind about which fairy cakes to try."

"You could've stopped to think about the fact that I didn't know your system. You could've thought of looking to see what you were putting in your mouth."

"You could try to hear the fact that I've apologized already," Fred said dryly. "Besides, I had to watch my potion."

Angelina blew out her breath in annoyance. "This is just..." she shifted again, stifled another moan. It was like everything between her legs was on fire. "Twelve hours?"

"Till they get the shrivelfig and brew up the antidote." Fred closed his eyes, blew out his breath slowly. "Going to kill him..."

"Have you ever tested this one before?"

"No, it's George's"

"So how did he ever get rid of the effect? If he's never..."

"Antidote. As for the other way of getting rid of it, we have testers."

"How do you know if it was harmful when your testers didn't have sex?"

"We don't. But it's not supposed to do you any harm. We've become a lot more careful and responsible than we used. All current evidence to the contrary," he said, with a rueful glance at his lap.

They were silent for a few moments.

"I didn't know you were still a virgin," Angelina said quietly.

Fred glanced at her. "We're running a business. Not a lot of opportunities for dating. I wasn't joking when I said we're both usually in bed by eleven and bloody exhausted. And I'd say we were 'all shagged out,' but ironically, that is why we're not."

"I didn't know." Angelina paused. "George, too?"

Fred nodded.

"You know there's plenty of girls who'd give a lot to go out with either one of you."

Fred chuckled. "Oh, we've dated. Casually. There was this lovely Muggle girl from the village near the Burrow, and George had a thing going with one of the sales assistants at Eeylops. But, you know, it's not a good time for anything else."

"I suppose not." Angelina thought for a moment. This was probably not a good topic, considering how she was feeling, and how he was probably feeling too. "It's just rare. Most blokes would just take whoever it was to bed right away, if they could."

"Suppose so."

"You're waiting till you're married, then?"

Fred shrugged. "Till the right time," he said uncomfortably. "Right person." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, this is stupid. I can't even work on the potions I was working on."

"Why not?"

"It's just better not to, when there's unpredictable magic around. We don't usually test without setting up wards first. Here, hang on, I'm going to turn things off."

Angelina watched as he turned the fire off underneath his cauldron, started neatly labelling everything and putting it away.

"What about your brother's wedding?"

"What about it?"

"Weddings are usually... well, you know. Great places to meet people. Especially if you're in the wedding party. And I'm assuming there were some Veela there?"

"Fleur's cousins?" Fred smiled and his eyes went a bit unfocussed. "Yeah, a few..."

Angelina waited, but Fred seemed lost in a happy reverie. "I take it you pulled."

"Both did," Fred said dreamily. "They were so unbe_liev_ably..."

"So what did... you know, what happened?"

"You know," he mused, "we always thought Harry and Ron were funny kids, the way they got all silly over Fleur. But Merlin, one hour with Claudine..."

"Was that her name?" Angelina pressed her lips together and wrestled down the utterly inappropriate spurt of jealousy. "What happened?"

"Sadly, not as much as one would expect. What with the wedding being raided and all. Though I suppose I should be grateful that I didn't arrive at the safe house starkers, because Mum Apparated to the same place and that would've been awkward, to say the least."

"So you were a perfect gentleman, then?" Angelina said sceptically. "With a Veela?"

Fred laughed out loud. "Oh Godric. Ah, no. I'm not the saint-like one, you know. George is."

Angelina's eyebrows went up. "He's holey. You know, his ear." Angelina groaned and Fred sniggered. "Not my joke, believe me, though I'll admit, it was pretty good considering the blood loss he'd just suffered. No, I didn't exactly resist. And neither did Saint George. Just didn't... you know."

"Why not?"

Fred blinked. "I'd just met her." Angelina nodded, knowing Derek would've had no qualms about that. "Look... would it make sense not to have... you know, with _you_, and then hop into bed with a Veela cousin-in-law who I'd never met? Particularly considering that there was no bed around." He took a flask and filled it with part of the unfinished potion, then put it away.

"Well... you're older now."

"What, at nineteen you officially get desperate enough to fuck anything that'll hold still long enough?" He laughed. "Sorry to disappoint." He tapped the edge of the cauldron and the rest of his potion disappeared, and he started to wipe down the inside of the cauldron, his lips still curved in a small smile.

A happy memory, then. She wondered what he and George had looked like, in formal robes for their brother's wedding. What the unknown Veelas had looked like, what they'd thought of the twins. If Fred had kissed Claudine the same way he'd kissed Angelina. Just how far he'd gone with Claudine...

She pushed her pointless musing aside and watched him finish tidying. "You're a lot more meticulous than I ever thought," she mused. "Your room was always such an incredible pigsty."

"There's no profit in keeping your room clean and tidy. Workroom? Can't get along without it."

Angelina nodded and shifted slightly.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Uncomfortable," she said.

"Being busy helps."

"Can I do anything?"

"Erm... yeah, actually, you could go through that drawer - don't worry, those are all formulas and recipes - and alphabetize them."

"Why not use a spell to do that?"

"Believe it or not, some of them hide when we do that. No idea how." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Hungry?"

"There's something to eat here that won't kill me?"

"Plenty. We've been caught here before, you know. Some of our products have antidotes that don't work for a few hours." Fred pulled on the door of one of the storage cupboards and it swivelled around, revealing a sink with a small shelf full of food above it. He rummaged around a bit. "Last time I was stuck here was last month, I think. Damn, knew I'd forgotten to get more dried fruit. Oh, George got chocolates." He held one out to Angelina, who stared at it suspiciously. "Don't worry, honestly, there's nothing magical in any of these. We wouldn't risk wonky reactions with experimental products."

Angelina took the chocolate cautiously.

"And we've got a loo on the back wall, and there's even beds to sleep in, in one of the cupboards."

"You've thought of everything."

"There's also books, novels, a few Daydream Charms - those probably aren't a good idea right now though. And we've got cards and some board games."

"Board games. Wonderful." She rubbed her forehead, trying to keep her mind on the many distractions and keep a positive attitude, willing herself to ignore the by-now-unpleasant feel of her... erection.

Well. This was a first. For the first time ever, she did regret, most wholeheartedly, having taken the Weasley twins up on a dare.

It was going to be a long, long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**8:30pm**

George transfigured one of the stools near the workroom into a couch and collapsed onto it, covering his eyes.

"This has got to be one of the worst fuckups I've ever made," he groaned.

"It's not exactly your finest hour," Lee agreed. "Though maybe you shouldn't discount the time that you turned Oliver into a pelican during your match with Ravenclaw in second year."

George shook his head. "Yeah, see, for one thing that was his fault for picking up my shin guards instead of his own, and, more importantly, I didn't piss off Fred." He rubbed his forehead. "Merlin, he's going to kill me. How could I have been so stupid?"

Lee sank down next to George. "Cheer up, come on. It's one of the stupider things you've done since I've known you, but when you get down to it, it's not that bad. If I was stuck in a workroom for the night, I can think of worse people to be stuck with."

"I can't."

Lee looked at George in surprise. "Thought you liked Angelina."

"I do. So does Fred."

Lee waited a beat. "...and this is a problem because?"

George shook his head wearily. It really wasn't any of Lee's business. Which was a very odd thing to think, as Lee had always been so much a part of him and Fred that keeping secrets from him felt almost as weird as trying to keep secrets from one another. But this concerned things that weren't George's to tell. And if Fred hadn't told Lee - or Lee hadn't cottoned onto - just how Fred felt about Angelina, it really wasn't George's place to fill him in.

"Look, he liked her enough to go out with her in school," said Lee. "They're friends. I'm just not seeing the difficulty."

"She broke up with him."

"Well yeah, two years ago. But he's single, she's single... why is it the end of the world if they're in there for another twelve-"

"They'll want to shag."

Lee snorted. "Oh NO! Stuck for hours with a pretty girl who's dying for it, and there's no way out of the room but to shag her!" Lee smirked. "If the Death Eaters ever catch me, d'you think maybe I can get them to make that my punishment? 'Please, I can take Cruciatus, I can deal with being Imperio'd to murder Muggles for the fun of it, but please, _please_, Merlin please don't lock me in a room with a gorgeous girl I fancy! Especially if she's gagging for it!"

George threw a cushion at him and Lee batted it away. "Shut it. For one thing, neither of them can get out till he returns the favour."

Lee shrugged. "All right, that part wouldn't be my top choice of first-time sexual activities, but again I say-"

"You'd do it?"

Lee smirked. "With Angelina? Faster than you can say 'sodomy,' mate."

George laughed. "Well, that's you."

"I've been saying this for a while: you two need to become more experienced in the ways of the world."

"We're plenty experienced."

Lee sniggered. "Listen, Veela wedding guests aside, middle-aged or underaged customers and Diagon Alley shop girls swooning over you and propositioning you for twinny threesomes is not adequate sexual experience for two dashing young wizards. You need to have a go at the real thing."

George rolled his eyes. "We will. Someday."

"Well I'd wager to say _he_ will. Today." Lee looked at his watch. "Possibly technically tomorrow, depending how long it takes for them to realize it's a sin to let a perfectly good potion like that go to waste." He glanced at the workroom door, then frowned slightly. "What the..." He stood up, approached the door and listened for a moment. His eyebrows went up.

"What?" George asked. "Are they..."

Lee sniggered quietly and walked away from the door.

"They're singing."

"What?"

George got up and stood outside the door for a moment.

_Ninety-seven bottles of Butterbeer on the wall,_

_Ninety-seven bottles of Butterbeer,_

_Take one down, pass it around,_

_Ninety-six bottles of Butterbeer on the wall._

He grinned and went back to Lee, who had leaned his head against the back of the couch and covered his eyes.

"Oh my _GOD_ it's no wonder you two haven't scored yet. _That's_ what he does when he's trapped with a beautiful girl like her? Singalongs?!"

George chuckled. "The song's part of a Charm we sell. Makes weird colours appear on the walls at parties. Useless, but rather pretty."

"Haven't seen it."

"Well it's not got any humour value, so we don't always have them on sale."

"Still." Lee shook his head. "Singing Ninety-nine Bottles. What's he going to do next? Play cards?"

George shrugged. "We've got a few card decks. Some board games too."

Lee stared at him. "I swear, you two are nineteen going on twelve."

"What's wrong with board games?" George asked defensively.

"Nothing, if you're looking for a way to entertain your elderly half-deaf uncle on a rainy Saturday evening. You two know absolutely nothing about women, do you?"

"D'you know how much we make off WonderWitch products?"

"It's growing up with almost nothing but brothers, I think," Lee mused, ignoring him. "And your role models, I swear... all right, somehow Bill got himself a Veela wife, but he's so much older than you that he couldn't have been home much while you two were growing up, and he obviously passed absolutely none of his skills on to you. Charlie? Handsome bloke, I'll grant you that, but I don't think he notices females unless they're spitting fire at him. Percy... well. You poor, poor lost souls."

"And our dad? Fathered seven kids?"

"That only proves he got laid seven times. With the same woman."

"Six."

Lee waved off his correction. "Six, fine. And we don't want to think about what all that entailed. You're still beyond pathetic. Board games, my God."

**11:00 pm**

"I can't... take this any more..." Angelina said, and Fred snorted.

"Well we've got another ten hours till the antidote's brewed, so I'm afraid you can."

"It's unbelievable! Is this what it feels like all the time?"

"Merlin, no," Fred said, laughing out loud. Angelina glared at him. Fine time to get silly. "No, this is very special."

"I'm going to... would it be bad to, you know..."

Fred glanced over at her. "What?"

"To, you know... wank."

Fred blinked. "Seriously?"

"Fred, this is incredibly uncomfortable."

"Yeah I know, but..."

"Would it be bad?"

"Dunno. George!" he raised his voice and Angelina jumped. Footsteps sounded outside the room.

"Can he talk?"

"Shut up, Lee, 'course he can. Ang - erm, I was wondering, is wanking contraindicated here?"

"'Course not."

"You tested them too at first, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Wank? Like mad. Almost got a blister on my-"

"Not sure Angelina wants to hear that part, mate," Fred said hastily. "Thanks!"

"Won't do much good, though. 'Till you get the antidote, or, you know, do the deed."

Fred blew out his breath. "Does it help at all?"

"For about ten minutes, post-orgasm. Then you're back where you were."

"Ten minutes sounds pretty good right about now."

"Don't forget a sound charm."

"Right." Fred started to wave his wand. "Wait - how many times?"

"Did I wank?"

"Yeah."

"Erm... don't remember. Not for ten hours, that's for bloody sure."

"Thanks."

Fred thought for a moment.

"Well?" asked Angelina.

"Thinking," he said distractedly. "Right. We can put a curtain across the workroom for privacy if you want, but the silence charm... erm." He drummed his fingers on one leg for a moment. "No, it should be all right. If George said to do it, I'm hoping that means there isn't anything in the cakes that should react too badly with..."

"This isn't reassuring," Angelina muttered.

"Right, then, we won't use a silence charm-"

"-but I suppose it's worth the risk," she added quickly.

Fred grinned at her and went to one of the cupboards, pulling out a large lime-green sheet and tacking it up to both walls. He swept the newly-made curtain back with a flourish, motioning her to go past. "Go to it, then. Sure you don't want any help? I do have a certain expertise in this area-"

She rolled her eyes and tossed a piece of wadded parchment at him and he laughed, deflecting it. She stepped behind the curtain, which now divided the back half of the workroom, with the work tables and cauldrons, from the front half with the shelves and cupboards, and felt the silence charm set in as Fred's laughter was suddenly cut off.

She leaned against the back wall. Immediately moved away as an invoice on the bulletin board protested shrilly.

Right. She slid down to the floor, opening her trousers. God, how did one even do this, with... she'd handled two of these before, with Derek and with a charming Muggle boy she'd picked up at a pub one night, but it was rather different, having one herself.

She reached down. And nearly squeaked in surprise.

Well. That was pretty... that was _incredibly_ stimulating. She felt a moment's jealousy towards boys, who could experience this intense pleasure all the time - quickly wiped out as she reminded herself that she'd been aroused for two hours, so of course she found a simple touch stimulating. Even if she'd only been under the stupid fairy cake's aphrodisiac effects she probably would've almost come instantly, extra appendage or not. She moved her hand up and down a few times, quickly realizing that she was about a second away from coming, and then she had no time to think about anything else as she came, muscles tightening up and pleasure exploding through her. She panted, lethargy spreading through her, and opened her eyes.

Oh.

Eeew.

Right. This had never been off-putting when the substance in question belonged to somebody else, but when it had come from her... how gross.

And how did one dispose of this stuff, anyway? She had a feeling that Fred would warn her against using magic to spell it away, but for some reason she really didn't want to touch it right now.

Squeamishly, she stood and grabbed a dishcloth off the worktable and wiped herself off. And started to wonder if Fred was doing the same thing, on the other side of the lime-green curtain.

He must be done, right?

Well, if he wasn't, she wasn't going to interrupt him. No matter how much she might kind of want to. No matter how much she might wish they were dealing with this together, instead of-

No, she didn't wish any such thing.

There were many good reasons why they were on separate sides of the curtain. It wasn't even the fact that Fred was still a bit more inexperienced than she'd expected. It was... well, their history. Much as she still looked back on their time together with a smile, much as she still loved him, there were many good reasons why she'd ended things with him, and getting physically intimate with him just because she was horny as hell, and trapped here with him for the next ten hours, was not an option.

But damn, this took her back. Memories she probably shouldn't dwell on right here and right now.

Memories like their first kiss, which had been so very... _Fred_-like, really. She'd initiated it, sort of, grabbing hold of him as he, George and Lee left the Great Hall after dinner one night, a few days after he'd invited her to the Yule Ball.

"Look, about the Yule Ball..." she'd begun, making her tone matter-of-fact.

"Yeah?" he'd said, clearly impatient to rejoin George and Lee, who were disappearing up the stairs, heads together, no doubt planning some prank.

"I know you asked me to go with you, but-" she'd stopped as Fred turned to look at her.

"What, d'you not want to any more?" he asked, surprised.

"No, no I want to," she said hastily, and he'd relaxed. "I just want to... well, the thing is..." she stopped, feeling incredibly foolish. She took a deep breath. "Are we going as just friends? Or what?"

He stared at her then, his head tilted to the side, George and Lee apparently completely forgotten. "What do you think?"

"You shouted across the common room. That's not generally the way a girl gets asked out if it's as more than friends."

He grinned at her. "Does have the element of surprise, though, doesn't it?"

She crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Would you go if it was as more than friends?" he asked her.

She frowned. "You're being evasive."

"Evasive. Good word." He grinned at her. "Would you?"

She lifted her chin. "Yeah. I would."

"Good." He ran a hand through his hair and suddenly looked oddly... shy.

"So? Am I?" she asked.

"Yeah. If you want. Do you?"

"Yeah."

And they'd sort of smiled at each other, and then Fred had stepped closer. She'd almost stepped back, startled, but straightened a bit and smiled up at him instead.

And then he'd kissed her, and it had been one of the least romantic and most wonderful moments in her life, because he'd sort of ducked down and kissed her lightly, so lightly she'd barely felt his lips on hers before he pulled back. Then he seemed to hesitate for a moment before touching her arm, pulling her closer and kissing her again, and she'd given a bit of a squeak. He'd broken off the kiss and started laughing, and she had too, and soon they were giggling like little kids.

They'd eventually settled down enough to try again, and this time there wasn't any giggling. This time there was excitement and totally unexpected sensual pleasure, and Angelina realized that, although she'd thought about kissing Fred often enough in the days since he'd asked her to the Ball - and a few times before that, which she was never going to tell anyone about - she'd mostly been thinking about the emotional part. The excitement, the thrill of knowing he liked her as more than a friend. The wonder of actually being involved in a romance, even if it was with one of the least romantic boys she'd ever met.

She hadn't thought about the feel of his lips, which were unexpectedly soft. The taste of his mouth - chocolate milk from dinner, of all things. The warmth of his body. The scent of his hair, the fine texture of it sliding between her fingers. The slight roughness of his cheek and the realization that although he didn't look like he had any facial hair, he apparently did. The way he'd pulled back from their first kiss and gazed at her, eyes shining with wonder, and then came back to her mouth as though pulled by an invisible force. He'd closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, and she'd echoed the sentiment, both of them clumsy as kittens, but it hadn't mattered. They'd only stopped when he'd remembered he was actually supposed to have a detention that night, and that was what George and Lee had been planning - a way to get them all out early.

It had all been so exciting. And unexpected, every time they kissed, because Fred didn't treat her like a girlfriend in public. They seemed to be friends, nothing more. Friends who sometimes met in empty classrooms and snogged a bit, before he had to run off to pull a prank or serve a detention or practice Quidditch.

An entire year of no commitment, which had eventually grown old. Treating her like a friend in the day, and kissing her in the dark. Treating her the same way he'd treated Oliver as his Captain at Quidditch, then holding her hand when she fretted over the team after practice. Spats that started out small and inconsequential, but eventually ate away at her, as her frustration with the casualness of their relationship ate at her. The fight they'd had after he and George had been banned from Quidditch had been spectacular - though the make-up snogging had been even better.

And then he'd left school, with George, without even telling her he was going. That had burned more than she could ever express.

She'd forgiven him, as a friend. Then dumped him as a boyfriend the first chance she got.

It had been the right thing to do. The smart thing to do. He wasn't ready for anything real; too immature and reckless and full of energy to even think of any commitments, other than to his family and to making the world laugh.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Suddenly wanting to ask him what it was they'd had together anyway. Had she really been his girlfriend in any real sense, or just a friend with benefits? What had all of that meant to him? Did it matter any more?

All right, he had to be done by now. And was probably waiting for her to open the curtain. She stepped towards the curtain hesitantly, then peeked through, preparing to duck back immediately if he was still... occupied.

Fred was sitting back against a cupboard, head thrown back, hand down his trousers, eyes closed, and Angelina breathed in quietly, her intention to duck back dying unnoticed. His hand was moving slowly up and down, teeth worrying his lower lip, and he gave a soft moan as he passed the palm of his hand over the crown, his legs quivering.

Oh Merlin. Angelina's breath hitched as she watched him, his hand gradually moving faster, his breath coming in short gasps. She pressed the heel of her hand down on herself, seeming to remember seeing boys do that before. Happily, it did appear to help.

He was breathing faster now, his hand running up and down with practiced ease, his breath hitching every time he passed his palm over the top, and he bit down hard on his left hand as the right went faster and his body strained upwards, and Angelina could almost feel the waves of pleasure and need coursing through him and God this was insupportable. His eyes were clenched shut, beads of sweat on his forehead, then his mouth opened in a gasp and he groaned deeply, shuddering, and Angelina had completely forgotten that she wasn't supposed to be here as she watched Fred's face while he came, gasping, bracing his hand on the wall behind him, then breathing deeply, the tension leaving his body.

Angelina froze. Oh shit. She... she wasn't supposed to be looking. She briefly contemplated backing up but he'd open his eyes any moment now and he'd see her and oh, shit.

She drew the curtain aside and knelt down beside him instead, and Fred stiffened slightly, then sighed and slowly opened his eyes.

"How long were you there?" he asked her quietly after a moment.

"Long enough," she said softly. "Sorry, I..."

He nodded, took out his wand, then blew out his breath. "Ugh. Forgot. Can you pass me a cloth?"

She looked at him, puzzled.

He nodded down at himself. "We can't really use most magic in here. I'd like to clean up."

"Right." She blushed, thankful that on her it wasn't nearly as visible as it was on him. Not that he seemed all that embarrassed. He took the cloth she handed him and she looked away as he cleaned himself and zipped up again.

Bloody hell. She'd come just minutes ago, but seeing Fred like that, she was feeling it again, that burn, that need... and she couldn't look at him. He didn't seem to mind that she'd been watching him, but all she could think of was that she shouldn't have. Considering what she was feeling physically, and considering how she'd felt since the moment she'd walked into his workroom, she should've known better. Because now she wanted... she didn't even know what she wanted, but...

No, that was stupid. She knew what she wanted. But it was something she shouldn't want.

Something that hadn't worked in the past and certainly wouldn't work now.

"What is it?" he asked.

She shook her head. The air smelled like spices and cleaning solution and sex.

"Come on, let's make some coffee," she said. "And get something to eat."

**12:30 am**

They were playing Basilisks and Mirrors. It was unreal. They were trying to pretend nothing had happened, and were playing Basilisks and Mirrors. She'd suggested Exploding Snap, but the giggle-fit and tasteless jokes that had inspired in him had effectively ruled that idea out.

"How can you concentrate on a game while _this_ is going on?" she finally asked in dismay, gesturing at her groin.

"I've waited out botched experiments before. And as for being hard, like I said, ages thirteen to eighteen. I can play board games, play cards, do Arithmancy, write letters, listen to Binns..."

"You're joking. Binns?"

"Which part of 'welcome to a teenage boy's life' did you not understand?" He laughed at her. "Seriously, the crack of dawn was enough to get me hard some days."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Ha ha ha. Who was Dawn, and why was she showing you her crack." She paused. "And yet you were always such a gentleman."

Fred looked down at the playing board, and Angelina tilted her head to the side. "Did you not want to? When we were going out together?"

He gave her a half-smile. "Think I'm made of stone?"

"Then... why didn't you? Why didn't we ever go farther than..."

Fred shrugged uncomfortably. "Were we even of age when we started going out?"

"I was. And I would've, you know," she said, regretting saying the words the moment they were out of her mouth.

Fred cleared his throat, looking away from her. "Are we going to finish this game? Because if not, I just realized there's some things I need to make that don't require much magic."

Angelina took a deep breath, gave him a "go ahead" wave, and he moved off to one of the shelves, taking out some chunks of wax of different colours and a small copper pot. She seated herself on one of the work stools and watched him as he filled a small cauldron with water and lit a fire under it, then picked a few of the coloured chunks of wax and put them into the copper pot.

She'd wanted to go farther, so much, back at school, as they'd fumbled together in dim classrooms, kissing with more enthusiasm than skill. She still remembered the first time they'd been snogging and he'd slowly drawn a hand down her back and pulled her a bit closer and she'd been able to tell he was rather excited about what they'd been doing. Remembered how that had made her feel, excitement and nerves and need and delight all at once.

They'd never gone very far, though. Just some heavy snogging, petting over clothes, and he'd slipped a hand up her shirt once. She'd gasped and they'd ground against each other and then his breathing had become uneven and then he'd stopped and shivered, and then been rather embarrassed.

"Did you - erm."

He'd bitten his lip, cleared his throat. "Erm. Yeah." Ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, giving her a sheepish look. "Sorry."

It had made her feel wanted. Desired. Made her want to be the cause of that shiver again.

And now they were here, and she'd seen him come, and maybe it was because she'd just broken up with Derek the Dick, and missed everyone back home, and Fred was being sweet and considerate and seemed to have grown up a bit since the last time they'd been together, and she was so _fucking hard_, and who knew what else, but all the reasons she had for avoiding doing anything physical with him were losing their persuasive power astonishingly fast.

There are many good reasons why I must not snog Fred, she reminded herself. Reason One:

What was Reason One again?

Fred was carefully suspending the copper pot over the water in the cauldron, then measuring out some oddly shimmering powder and sprinkling it into the pot, his brow furrowing in concentration as he moved the pot back and forth so that the powder was absorbed by the wax. And she couldn't take it any more.

It wasn't the physical need. That was bothersome, but manageable. It was the yearning to pull him close again, to feel his body responding to hers. To touch him and make him lose control, even just for a moment. To see what else lay beneath the casual air of energy and laughter that always surrounded him.

"Fred."

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever want to... did you ever wish we hadn't broken up?"

Fred blinked a couple of times, then shrugged. "Well yeah, of course. You're the one who ditched me, right?" he said lightly. "Thought we could've had fun together."

"No, I mean, _really_ wish. As in..." damn, she couldn't even articulate it. Did you think about me? Did you feel bad when I left you? Did you have to tell yourself we were over, over and over again, until you made yourself believe it? Did you feel like crying? Did you cry?

"Did you wish we could've made up?"

"Sure, yeah."

She blew out her breath in annoyance. This was getting nowhere. "What about right now?" she said, and could feel her pulse speeding up. "Do you want me? Beyond what the fairy cake is making you feel?"

"Angelina..." he said softly.

"I want you," she said.

Fred gave her a rather grim smile. "No you don't. A messed up experiment wants me."

"It's only partly the experiment. I wanted you before I ate that bloody fairy cake."

Fred sighed and looked away, and her heart sank.

"Fred... sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't've said anything." Damn it to hell, this was mortifying. "I should've known... of course you wouldn't still want - fuck. Never mind, forget I said anything-"

Fred put out a hand. "Stop. Please."

Angelina stopped, her heart racing. Fred was staring at the floor, gathering his thoughts, and for a boy who'd never had any problem speaking before, he was obviously having difficulty figuring out what to say.

"It's not that I don't. Want to, that is." He swallowed. "You're... it's not that I don't want you."

"It doesn't have to mean anything," she said quietly. "We're friends, right? It doesn't have to..."

He took a deep breath. "No, I suppose it doesn't." He drew closer to her, still not meeting her eyes, then gently tugged her off the stool and kissed her.

Oh, he'd learned. Since the last time they'd done this, he'd learned. Didn't matter whether he'd learned with Claudine, or with whomever. The Muggle girl in the village. Who knew. Who cared.

"Closer," she said, and pulled him to her. He was gasping into her mouth and she pressed herself to him, her nipples tight, her body wanting something, anything-

He groaned and she pulled back. "No, don't. Come back," he said. He ran a hand to the nape of her neck, and that was one of the things she'd loved about him. He would hold her head so gently, so tenderly, whenever he kissed her, and the lips that were so often laughing would touch her softly, and those hands would caress her cheek, her neck-

"Merlin," he whispered. "That's..."

"Missed that?"

"Yeah."

She touched his tongue with hers, lips gentle against one another, and he ran his fingers down her arm, grasping her hand and lacing their fingers together as she moaned.

God, with the way they were both feeling, it really wasn't going to take very much for them to be - well, he was way ahead of her, she could feel how hard he was against her thigh, though she was much too shy to let him feel her own... not so little development. She ran a hand down to herself and he thrust against her, his voice gone as she stroked herself once, twice-

"Oh!" he gasped and stiffened, groaning and shuddering, and the feel of him, the sudden warmth against her thigh, was enough for her. She was gone, over the edge, everything clenching, releasing, shaking her, blinding her.

"Fuck," he said softly as they caught their breath, holding on to one another. "Oh, fuck." He closed his eyes, covering them for a moment, and she stared at him.

He regretted it. Oh God, he'd only done it because she'd pressured him and what normal boy wouldn't jump at the chance of getting off with any female with a pulse, especially when they were feeling the way Fred had been feeling a few minutes ago?

She drew back and he looked up at her, his eyebrows drawing together.

"What?"

"I'm - I'm sorry, I know you probably don't-"

"What?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"You regret it," she said flatly, embarrassed. "What we just did."

He gaped for a moment. "Erm, all right," he finally said carefully. "Where the hell d'you get that from?"

"You didn't want to, and-"

"I thought _you_ didn't. That you only did because... well, the bloody fairy cake."

"Told you, I wanted to before that. You-"

"I don't regret it. Unless you do."

"I don't."

"Fine, then." And they stared at each other for another moment before starting to laugh.

"Erm, I think another cloth is going to be needed here," he said, looking down.

"Two," Angelina muttered.

Fred sniggered. "Right. Two. Erm. Welcome to... manhood?" She elbowed him. "No nice discrete orgasms for us. Here." He handed her another small cloth. "Right. D'you want to get back to our game?"

"Not much, no."

"Neither do I. Thought I'd offer."

"I can think of better ways to occupy our time."

He looked away from her, then came closer. "So can I," he said, and kissed her.

**1:30 am**

"Bloody late," Lee commented, yawning. He glanced over at the workroom door. "What d'you suppose they're doing?"

"Rather not go there, if it's all the same to you," said George, dusting the WonderWitch shelves.

"It's not going to hurt them if they don't do it, is it?"

"No, it'll just be really maddening. Picture the hardest you've ever been. Now stay that way for twelve hours straight."

Lee grimaced and watched George dust for another minute. "How long are you going to stay up?"

"Not as long as Fred," George muttered, and Lee sniggered. "Dunno. After hours we usually restock the shelves with supplies from the workroom, or make more stuff. Can't do either tonight, so I figure I'll try to catch up on the cleaning, balance the books, that sort of thing. Oh and I should probably take a look at the Puff breedery too."

"You're actually going through with that? Breeding Pygmy Puffs with You-Know-Who faces on their backs?" George nodded, and Lee shook his head. "Leave it to you two to think of making the Dark Lord fluffy and cuddly."

"Well we are planning on marketing them as chew-toys, primarily. Besides, the Bellatrix Puff we bred wasn't half-bad. Even Charmed her to shriek and dance around. Sang _The Itsy Bitsy Spider_."

Lee groaned. "You're mental, I swear. And didn't the BellaPuff run away?"

"She's still here somewhere though. Sometimes she pops out, hexes our ankles. Hurts like hell."

Lee drew his legs up onto the couch, glancing back at the workroom door.

"Can't he work in there?"

"Not really. We've figured out a few bits of magic that aren't likely to kill you when you're under the influence of a not-fully-tested product, but we don't like to push it too far."

"You two? Not like to push too far?" Lee scoffed. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

George shook his head, starting to put the violently pink products back onto sparkling clean shelves. "No, really. We found out half the time cleaning charms will clean you of all your hair."

Lee sniggered. "So?"

"_All_ your hair. And you can make yourself look like you've got hair, but underneath it, the real thing is growing back, and trust me, you don't want to know how that feels in some places."

"Ugh."

"Yeah. A tidying spell once reacted with an experimental origami Wheeze and rearranged all of Fred's freckles into perfectly spaced lines, like a grid pattern. A freshening spell made me smell like baby powder from about five streets off. I left a trail of potpourri behind me wherever I went." He straightened up a display of Daydream Charms. "So if Fred's doing anything in there, it'll be one of the very few things that we know are safe, or something that needs to be done manually. _Don't_," he said in a pained voice as Lee opened his mouth for a predictable quip.

Lee glanced at the workroom door thoughtfully. "So, would you? If you were in there?"

George shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe."

"Come on. Bloody hell, I'd do it in a second. And if Oliver was in there? He'd come just thinking about it. She's fucking gorgeous."

"Yeah, well, she's not your brother's ex," George muttered.

Lee snorted. "Yeah, from about a million years ago. So why wouldn't Fred, then?"

"She's not just any girl to him," he said uncomfortably, starting to rearrange a shelf of perfumes. "Say, what happened to that lead you got the other day, on those Muggle-borns that escaped the Ministry back in September?"

"Reg Cattermole's lot? Nothing, didn't pan out. So why wouldn't Fred want to?"

"Lee, drop it," George said brusquely, and Lee looked startled. "Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Would you really let a girl bugger you?"

"Why not? Granted, it wouldn't be my top choice of what to do between the sheets, but I've heard it can be fantastic for the receiver. You know Eddie Carmichael gets it every chance he can."

"Yeah, well, just seems weird. And it'd be different with a bloke, I'd think."

"Why?"

"Dunno, it just is. Like it's supposed to happen that way, if both blokes are into that kind of thing. With a girl, though... just seems weird."

"A lot of sex seems weird before you actually do it." Lee waggled his eyebrows. "Oral sex, right? Tell me you didn't think _that_ sounded a bit disgusting before you met your Veela cousine-in-law."

George smirked. "Yeah, well, sure, but that's blow jobs."

"Buggery's probably the same thing. Don't knock it till you try it. Some Muggle once said 'The only unnatural sex act is one you cannot perform.' Though I suppose that's not really saying much," he said thoughtfully. "There's really not that much Muggles can perform, when you think about it. Rather limited repertoire."

George laughed. "Still don't think I'd ever want to try it myself, though."

"Never say never, young one," said Lee.

**2:30 am**

Thank God they'd chucked absolute restraint a few hours ago, thought Angelina as Fred nuzzled her throat, then licked the place behind her ear that always made her melt. Not that they'd been doing this the whole time. He'd eventually finished making a few of Wheezes' Everlast candles, decorated one of them with a picture of Hogwarts, and they'd alphabetized everything in sight, for starters. She'd told him a bit about Derek and the Isle of Man, and he'd told her a bit about Ron's sojourn at Bill's house, which had apparently lasted a few weeks. But every so often they would find themselves touching and kissing again and... and now here they were. On one of the beds, which Fred had pulled out from the cupboard and set up. Hoping they could get to sleep, or at least some rest.

"I dunno, if you're tired enough you might actually be able to sleep," George had said through the door when they'd asked him. "Wouldn't plan on restful sleep, though."

"Oh and Angelino," Lee had said seriously, "if you wake up and your sheets are all sticky, that's perfectly natural. Now that you're a growing boy, your body's going through changes; it's all part of the wonder of becoming a - OW!"

There wasn't a lot of resting happening on the bed right now. Fred was touching her over her clothes and it was bloody frustrating, that a boy so incredibly audacious and reckless in the rest of his life would be so tentative with this. She blamed Molly Weasley. She could only imagine how strenuously she must have tried to instill respect for girls and women into her houseful of boys.

...and she simultaneously wanted to deck Fred, because of all the things he could have absorbed from his mother, he _would_ have to choose the exhortation to be a gentleman with regard to sex.

Well, one of them was going to have to take the initiative here, and he'd shown himself to be quite comfortable following her lead when it came to Quidditch, for the two months she'd been his Captain.

She tugged his hand away from her hair, brought it to the front of her blouse, and he paused for a moment, pulling away from their kiss. His eyes were glazed with desire and a bit of endearing confusion, and his eyebrows went up a bit. She nodded and smiled, and he hesitated for a moment before starting to undo her buttons with deft agility. He hesitantly put his hand on one breast and paused to gaze at her, wonder in his eyes. She started to undo his robes.

"No, let me," he said, and batted her hand away. He shrugged off his magenta robes impatiently, then unbuttoned and removed his shirt in record speed, before drawing her blouse off and pulling her close.

Oh, God, that felt so... she'd seen him with his shirt off a few times, what with playing Quidditch together, but he'd never seen her, and the appreciation in his eyes was rather gratifying. As was the way he drew in his breath as she slid her hands over him. He cupped her breast, taking her lips in a soft kiss, and she gasped, arching into his touch. She reached back to undo her bra and smirked at his shocked indrawn breath as it came off.

"Fuck, Ange," he whispered. He caressed her breast, gently, almost as though he was afraid of hurting her. She pressed into his hand, closing her eyes as he leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth, too gently, too shyly, then groaned as she gasped and tangled her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer. His breath sped up and he tongued her nipple, one hand cupping the other breast and the other hand on her back, pressing her closer, God, it was like they were trying to become one person, closer, harder...

She lay back, drawing him down with her, on top of her, smiling as he rested on her and she felt how hard he was. He pulled back slightly and seemed to be warring with the impulse to thrust against her, and she decided she'd had enough. They'd waited long enough. He'd waited long enough.

She reached down and grasped him through his trousers, eliciting a gasp, then slipped a hand inside. He groaned, trembling, as she grasped him firmly, and swore inventively as she started to move her hand on him. He abandoned her nipple in favour of burying his face into her neck, shaking, breathing shallowly, his body jerking with every stroke.

"Fuck, Angelina, oh God, oh fuck," he was reduced to swearing quietly, feverishly, and she could hear him panting, pressing himself into her hand, again and again and-

God, both of them panting with need and aching to do more, and they were both so incredibly hot, so incredibly turned on, and really, she couldn't decide whether she would kill or kiss George Weasley by the time she got out of here.

Fred was groaning steadily now and she knew in a moment he'd come - they both would - and it would feel great at the time, but it was so damnably frustrating, knowing they'd be right back here again in minutes. She stopped, removed her hand, and shifted a bit, parting her legs so that he was pressed against her. God, she was so very wet, and she needed him so much. She was unable to stop herself from thrusting up at him for a few strokes, feeling his heat against hers, with too many layers between them. He swore again, lifting his face from her hair and looking at her questioningly as she stopped moving. His eyes dazed and dark, face flushed, beads of sweat on his brow.

"You can, you know," she whispered. "If you want to."

He gazed at her, biting his lip.

"D'you not want to?"

He laughed breathlessly, rolling his hips and thrusting against her slowly. "If you have to ask..."

"Then go ahead."

"Erm... never done this, though," he said quietly. He glanced down. "And with this... erm..."

She grabbed her wand quickly and waved it, making her unwelcome addition disappear from view.

"Ange- fuck, don't do that," he said nervously. "I - it's not that off-putting, you know. Bloody dangerous, doing magic in here."

"Sorry, forgot. D'you want to?"

He nodded slowly, and she drew her hand down, encircling him. He moaned, closing his eyes, then covered her hand with his, stilling her movement.

"Wait, don't, too close-"

She stopped, then shifted him off of her for a moment, undoing her trousers and pulling them off, while he shucked his own. She lay back down again, drawing him on top of her, giving a contented sigh as she felt him nestled against her. "Don't worry. It'll come naturally."

He kissed her, running a hand down to her hips, tilting her a bit till they were pressed together and she brought her legs up and hooked them over his waist.

"Can I..." he cleared his throat, his hand travelling down to her waist and lower.

"Yeah. Oh yeah," she breathed as he caressed her.

"Merlin," he said quietly. "You're so wet." She nodded, pressing herself against him as he cautiously stroked her, fingers tentatively entering her.

"More," she murmured.

He gulped. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, feels so good..." she whispered.

He gently stroked her, and then she felt him at her entrance, and he was looking down to where their bodies were joining and, unsafe magic or not, she had a moment of thankfulness that he couldn't see the extra body part she'd acquired before he slowly entered her, his heat and hardness filling her, making her moan.

"Oh!" He groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. "Oh, oh fuck." He stopped moving, face buried in her hair.

"How's that?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"That's... that feels pretty fucking brilliant," he said breathlessly. She moved. "Oh, bugger, that's..." he tightened his hold on her. "Sweet fucking hell, that's brilliant."

She grinned and stretched, pulling him deeper inside and laughing at his startled exclamation.

"What did you - bloody hell. That's brilliant. Seriously."

She moved back, and God, it really was. He was mouthing her neck now, fondling her breast and thrusting into her, his rhythm faltering as his breath hitched.

"I... Ange, I-"

"Yeah," she gasped, "me too."

"Oh fuck." He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut, panting.

"Why did you-"

"'M about to - and, and I don't want to be too rough-"

"You can't hurt me," she said, amused.

"I, er-" he thrust harder, giving a startled exclamation as she thrust up to meet him, urging him on, and he thrust again, harder this time, and twice more, and then she felt him tightening his arms around her and pulsing inside her and shuddering, crying out, almost sobbing in relief, and she cried out as her own pleasure crested.

He lay on top of her, panting, their bodies merged together, and he pushed inside her a few more leisurely strokes, relishing the aftershocks.

They lay together, their breathing evening out, hands slowly sliding over one another's bodies. She took a deep breath, and he propped himself up on his elbows, a bit concerned.

"Am I crushing you?"

"No, it's all right, you're not that heavy."

He started to move off and she tightened her legs around him again, then carefully moved so they were side by side with him still mostly inside her.

"Fuck. That's... oh, Merlin." He rested his face on her breasts, breathing in deeply, and all of the tension in his body seemed to be leaving him. She smirked at him.

"Not going to sleep on me, now, are you?"

"Mmm, no, 'course not," he murmured, and yawned. She smiled and tightened her inner muscles. "Oh!" His eyes popped open again. "That's brilliant!" He laughed. "Right. Awake now."

"Don't worry, I don't mind if you go to sleep. The effect should be worn off from you now, right?"

"I assume so. We'll see in five minutes if it is or not." He glanced down. "So weird, I know you've got something down there, and I can feel it, but I can't see it."

She blinked. Bloody hell, if that was what passed for romantic pillow talk with Fred... well, it wasn't really a big surprise. "Well it's still there."

He chuckled. "It's all right, you know. I don't mind it."

"I do. Odd to suddenly have extra bits."

"Not around here it's not," he said. "Still up?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "No."

"So you come from both?"

"Can't really tell. I think so. I definitely... well, something happened down there. And frankly, I'm a bit self-conscious about it. I'd rather not talk about it."

He nodded agreeably. "Sorry, just you know, George is still researching the fairy cakes, and-"

"We are _not_ going to tell George about what just happened!" she said, mortified.

Fred laughed. "All right, all right. He'll just have to wonder." He yawned again.

"You know," she said, smirking, "it's all right, really. If you go to sleep."

"No, you're still awake. And you're going to be for a while. George said it probably wouldn't, erm, go away on its own."

"He doesn't know, though, does he?"

"No. But he sounded pretty sure."

She sighed. "All right. Well then, keep me awake. With something that won't cause either of us to get excited any time soon."

"I hate to state the obvious, but this is not the best position to _not_ get excited."

"Right. Well, if we do, we'll deal with it then, all right?"

"Fair enough."

**4:30 am**

Two hours later, Fred was losing the battle against asleep. He was trying so hard, but they were lying down, and his eyes kept closing, and now that Angelina thought about it, he had looked tired - for him - even when she'd first come into the shop. As had George and Lee. She'd been so happy to see them that she hadn't stopped to notice that. Did they all look like that these days?

He started to yawn again, stifling himself immediately. "Sorry."

"I told you, it's all right. You've had a long day. And a rather... active last few hours."

He grinned at her sleepily. They had been active. He couldn't seem to stop caressing her, exploring her, delighted at everything they did together. She probably should've guessed he'd be as enthusiastic a lover as he was a prankster. Bloody quick learner, too.

"Told you, I don't want to leave you awake on your own. It's my fault this happened, and-"

"It wasn't your bloody cake."

"No, but I shouldn't have dared you-"

"Look, George shouldn't have forgotten to buy the shrivelfig, you shouldn't have dared me to try one of the fairy cakes, and I shouldn't have picked a different cake from the one you'd looked at. We all messed up."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who's still got a problem going on."

Angelina shrugged.

"Want some help with that?"

"Again, already? Are you sure the potion's not still active in you?"

"I'm sure," he smirked. "This is all me now."

Angelina laughed. "Not too many times in one night?"

"Bite your tongue; there's no such thing," Fred said firmly. He kissed her, taking her breath away, and she pulled him back down to her, their bodies touching again. And it was a good thing he didn't mind that she had an extra organ in the way, because it felt pretty damn good and she was too sleep-deprived to continue to steadfastly ignore it. She almost purred as he played with her nipple, innocently delighted in her body, not because of a potion or charm gone wrong but because he was young and healthy and full of life and had a girl he liked in his bed.

She smiled as he pressed a line of kisses down her body, mouthing her nipple, drawing a groan from her. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him close to her breast, enjoying the effect of the stupid fairy cake, drawing him closer and parting her thighs.

He was on top of her again, reaching down, the head of his cock nudging her entrance and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to slide in as he had before...

She opened her eyes. He was gazing at her, chewing on his bottom lip.

"You know... if you want to... erm, you know." He cleared his throat. "If you want to do it the other way, I don't mind."

She blinked at him and he blushed, and she felt her mouth drop open. Blushing? Why on earth would Fred Weasley be blush-

She suddenly got it.

"Oh. Oh, do you mean - erm. You mean, with, erm, with-"

"Yeah."

She stared at him.

"It's still almost five hours till George makes the antidote. That's a hell of a long time."

"It's not painful."

"No. Just annoying. That's a hell of a long time to be annoyed."

She hesitated, frowning at him.

"If you don't want to-"

"Bloody hell, yes, of course I want to," she said brusquely. "It's just... I... you don't have to do this."

"I don't mind," he repeated. "You can figure out what to do, right?"

Lube, she thought. They would need lube, and lots of it. As if he'd read her mind, he shifted off of her and sat up, reached into the cupboard the bed had been stored in, and picked up a small bottle, tossing it to her as he lay back down.

"Right, then, I'm in your capable hands," he said brightly. "Deflower away. Again."

She opened the bottle and poured a generous amount of lube onto her fingers, then hesitated nervously. "D'you want me to do this, or would you rather..." damn, she was just about shaking. She steadied herself, impatiently. If he could act like this was nothing more than yet another crazy stunt that he'd laugh about tomorrow...

"Up to you," he said lightly. "Sadly, we are out of my area of expertise."

"Right, then," she said, drawing close and kissing him, slowly bringing her hand down his body, stroking some of the lube onto his erection, and he moaned in approval, caressing her breasts, her waist, his hands slow and steady. She kissed her way down his face, down to his neck, and hesitated, suddenly noting the pulse beating rapidly at the base of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

Oh God. Not so blasé as he seemed, then. She took a deep breath, continuing to stroke him, and he was melting under her touch, and she went a little lower, spreading the lube between his legs, circling a bit. She took his mouth in a deep kiss, waiting until he was fully relaxed and concentrating on her mouth, and then hesitantly pushed in with one finger.

"Sorry!" she gasped as he suddenly jerked and drew in his breath.

"N-no, 's all right," he said, his voice a bit unsteady. "Just a bit startling at first, that's all." He cleared his throat. "Feels nice, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He took her mouth again, and she concentrated on being gentle. He was rather tense. Damn, the heat of his body felt so incredible just against her finger, she couldn't imagine getting in there with...

He stopped and lay his head back, closing his eyes, and she watched him for signs of discomfort.

"All right?"

"Yeah, fine," he said, and he was finally starting to relax. Maybe another finger. He breathed in quickly, forced himself to relax again.

"I'm not hurting you?"

"No, you're really not. Just feels a bit weird, that's all."

Right. Three fingers.

He opened his eyes and she caught her breath at the trust and vulnerability in his eyes. He nodded. "I think you can. Doesn't hurt."

She braced herself, trying to figure this out. Damn it, he was so tight. Fingers were not the same as... she pressed forward and Fred made an impatient sound and moved, and she cried out as she suddenly slid inside.

"Fuck!"

He laughed. "God, Angelina, you should see your face."

She thrust in slowly and he closed his eyes. "Yeah. Let go," he whispered. "Come on."

"I... are you...?"

He opened his eyes and smiled at her, then reached down, touching himself. "I'm fine. You can move."

"Doesn't hurt?"

"A bit. Not much." He stroked himself, moaning softly. And he was so hot around her, and he was gazing at her as she started to thrust into him, then tossing his head back and catching his breath, his legs coming up and circling her, and she wanted, so much, to hold this moment still, Fred giving himself to her and holding her inside-

"Angelina, oh God, that - that feels so fucking good," he whispered, his eyes bright with something she couldn't identify or name, and then-

Then they were thrusting against each other, both consumed with the overwhelming sensations, no hesitation or nerves any more, nothing but heat and exhilaration and-

And then it was too hard to hold on to anything any more, and she was crying out and shuddering her release into him, and his arms were tightening around her and he was gasping, his muscles squeezing her, and they were both shaking, clinging to each other, panting, exhausted, so much a part of one another it was hard to tell where one ended the other began.

God. They'd... and she'd...

He pulled his legs around her again, pressing her closer, his arms around her, and she was safe and it was over and they were...

"Go to sleep," he murmured.

"Can we leave now?"

He tensed slightly. "If you want."

She rested her head on his shoulder, absently stroking the soft ginger hair on his chest, gazing at the contrast of smooth dark brown skin on pale-gold-freckled white.

So that's what it felt like. That sense of trust, being given another person's body, feeling them willingly become so vulnerable to you, filling them, feeling them surround you...

She closed her eyes and sighed, and after a moment, felt him relax. He pulled the blanket over them both, kissed the top of her head, and whispered softly, "I have to do a few things in here. I'll be back in a minute."

"Mmhm," she said sleepily, and felt vaguely bereft as he left her side. She snuggled into the covers, breathing in deeply, his scent all over everything, mixed with her own. She drifted for a few minutes and was almost asleep by the time he came back to the bed. She felt him lie down beside her and curl his body around her, holding her close. Warm and familiar and lovely, and just her luck that this would happen under such miserable circumstances...

"Good night," he whispered, and she clasped his hand and felt him nestle his face against the side of her neck.

"Mm. You feel so good," she murmured. "G'night."


	3. Chapter 3

**8:15 am**

George hurried through the shop to the workroom and burst through the door, remembering only after it had opened that it wasn't supposed to open for him at all. "Fr-" He stopped short as he took in the sight in the room, and Lee almost walked into him.

"What-"

George made a chopping motion and Lee stilled immediately.

They were lying together on Fred's camp bed, facing the door, Fred spooned up behind her, one arm over her waist and one of Angelina's hands over his. They looked peaceful, serene, the blanket drawn down a bit, exposing one of Angelina's small breasts.

George started to back out slowly, moving Lee with him. Fred's eyes blinked open and met George's, and they gazed at each other for a moment. George gently pushed Lee out the door with him, closing the door behind them, and as it shut he could see Fred close his eyes again and nestle his face against Angelina's neck, holding her closely.

Lee cleared his throat. "Well."

"Yeah."

"Won't be needing the antidote, then."

"Not anytime soon, no."

They stood staring at the floor for a moment.

"Well," Lee finally said. "It's eight o'clock and the shop opens at nine. What else did you have planned to do?"

George blinked a bit. "Erm. Inventory's done. Books balanced..."

"Free time, then?"

"Not really. We're supposed to be going home for Easter. I was going to, erm, replenish some of the stock, in the workroom, but..."

"Yeah, no, best not," said Lee quickly.

"We'll just have to come back to do some work over the weekend. Mum'll be thrilled."

"So... erm... d'you want to help me with the Potterwatch material? Fred was going to, but."

George nodded, wondering how much of the disconnection he felt right now was due to sleeplessness, and how much to what he and Lee had just seen. "Yeah. May as well."

Lee took out his papers.

"Who's going to be there?" George asked. "Remus?"

"Yeah," said Lee. "Dunno how you did it, but thanks for getting in touch with him. We really needed him. Not just for the broadcast - though there's quite a few kids who remember his voice, so that's always nice - but he's bloody good at gathering information."

"You've Kingsley on too this time? Blimey, I can't believe you know how to get in contact with him. The Ministry would give anything to find him."

"State secret, mate. I'd tell you if I-"

"No, bloody hell, I don't want you to tell me. What I don't know, I can't tell. I mean, we've got all sorts of safeties in place in case we need to go to ground fast, but I don't particularly want to chance what might happen if they don't work."

Lee looked over his interview notes. He glanced back at the workroom. "So d'you think they, erm..."

"They did," said George shortly.

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Could it have worn off on its own?" Lee asked.

"Oh yeah, sure. And then after it wore off, they decided to go to bed together starkers." He shook his head. "No, they did it. It's the only way they would've been able to go to sleep."

"Both of them?"

"Yeah, both of them."

"Well. That's, erm, unusual."

George sniggered. "Not around here it's not."

**8:45 am**

"Morning." Angelina heard a soft voice in her ear and opened her eyes. She had a moment's total disorientation at the unfamiliar surroundings.

The workroom. Wheezes. Fred.

She sighed and clasped his arm around her. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"A while," he said, and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Wanted to let you sleep, but... the shop's got to open in fifteen minutes. We're going to have to get up." He sounded regretful.

"All right." She let herself bask in his closeness for a minute, then stretched, yawned, and sat up.

"Oi, do that again," Fred said with chuckle, and she turned around. He smiled appreciatively. "You know, I don't know what they've got in the water out on the Isle, but it's good for you."

She ran her eyes over him, his body marked with many small scars from Quidditch and testing all of his insane products on himself, and wished he weren't about to cover up again.

"Could I get some breakfast?" she asked, and was amused as he didn't seem to register her question. "Fred?"

"Sorry, what?" He blinked. "I know you just said something, but there were these lovely breasts, you see, so..."

She laughed. "Breakfast. I'm hungry. We can leave the workroom now, I take it?"

"Oh yeah. Like I said, the lock came off last night."

"Yeah, but last night I didn't have to leave," she said. "Now..."

Fred nodded, and reached down for their clothing, handing hers to her and not bothering to hide his disappointment as she pulled it on. He got dressed and went to the door. "Ready?"

"Ready." She stopped him as he was about to open the door. "I..."

"Yeah." He drew her close and she moved into his arms, tilting her head back for one last kiss, closing her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to memorize the feel of his lips and the scent of his skin...

He ended their kiss, and she pulled back reluctantly. She cleared her throat and straightened herself out as he opened the door, and they walked out into the shop.

"Breakfast?" George said nonchalantly as they left the workroom, and Angelina blushed.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, and took a piece of toast. Fred took another and went to the cashbox, opening it up.

"Lee, you stayed the night too?"

"Yeah, upstairs."

George cleared his throat. "Look, I'm really sorry about-"

"'S all right," Angelina said, and Fred nodded casually.

"No lasting harm done," he said quietly. "Any tea left?"

"Saved some for you," Lee said, nodding towards the counter.

"Going back to the Isle?" George asked Angelina.

"Yeah. Should probably send my mum and dad a message."

"Yeah, don't use our Floo, though. It's watched."

Angelina nodded, and George finished his toast.

"Still doing Potterwatch with me this weekend?" Lee asked Fred.

"Yeah, though I can't stay away too long," he said. "Mum'll have a fit."

"Ginny'll be home for Easter, then?" asked Lee.

"Yeah," George said. "We'll be leaving Verity in charge here over most of the weekend. She'll probably go mental, but Mum would murder us if we didn't go home. It'll be nice to see Ginny again, too."

"Does your mum know that Ron was back for a while?" asked Angelina curiously.

"_No_, bloody hell. That would've set her off for months," George said. "She's so set on all of us being together as much as possible, she would've wanted him at the Burrow."

"You two would've killed him, though," she said, finishing off her toast.

"Yeah, if Ginny didn't do him in first," George said.

Fred shrugged. "Bill said he'd been kicking himself for leaving since about a minute after he left. Still."

"Speaking of Ron," George said, and doused a small orange and maroon candle burning in a niche on the wall.

"What's that? Another experiment?" Angelina asked.

Fred shook his head. "Dad brought it."

"Your Dad's got experiments here?"

"It's just a candle. One of our Everlasts, actually. It's for Ron. Mum and Dad have another at home. We light it every night and put it out in the morning."

Angelina blinked.

"Mum got another one for Harry," George went on. "And one for Hermione. But of course we can't have them where anybody'll see them."

"Everybody knows Ron's supposedly sick," said Fred, "but Harry and Hermione are on the run and wanted for questioning-"

"-so we had to find a place for them," George said. "And it sort of grew from there."

Lee pressed a small depression in the wall next to the niche, and a small cupboard door appeared in the wall. He opened it and Angelina gasped. The cupboard was actually a large niche, with over a hundred small candles arranged in three tiers, burning, their lights flickering on the walls.

"Who are these for?"

George passed his wand over a black candle with a bolt of lightning on the side, and a light brown one with books worked into the design. A name appeared over each candle as the wand passed over it.

_Harry Potter_

_Hermione Granger_

Fred passed his wand over a brown candle with small megaphones drawn in, and another dark one with Quaffles.

_Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson_

Another candle had a wolf's head on the side.

_Remus Lupin_

"These are all people who are missing?" Angelina said, awed, staring at the huge array of candles. "Or in hiding?"

"They're in three groups," Lee said. "The top tier has people like us. The middle tier is people in danger." He passed his wand over a few of the candles.

_Neville Longbottom, Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey, Rubeus Hagrid_

"Where are the Creeveys?" Angelina asked.

"At Hogwarts, with fake papers," said Lee. "Hence the danger."

"And the bottom tier?" Angelina asked, gazing at the largest grouping, which contained dozens of nondescript white candles as well.

Fred passed his wand over a candle with a bright blue spot on the side, and a tawny-coloured one with grey streaks.

_Mad-Eye Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour, Charity Burbage, Cedric Diggory_

"George?" Lee said quietly, and George passed his wand over part of the "missing or in hiding" group.

_Luna Lovegood, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mary Granger, Wayne Granger, Dean Thomas, Dirk Cresswell, Ted Tonks, Gornuk, Griphook, Florian Fortescue_

Lee carefully picked up the candles for Dirk Cresswell, Ted Tonks, and Gornuk, and put them near Mad-Eye's candle. He moved Hagrid's candle - a large black one, with fangs - from the "danger" to the "in hiding" tier, and Fred put the candle he'd made last night, with the Hogwarts castle on it, next to Ted Tonks'.

Angelina's throat tightened. George and Lee took out a few more plain white candles, and Fred passed his wand over them, murmuring some words, as they were set down on the bottom tier as well. Angelina passed her wand over them, puzzled when nothing happened.

"The naming spell only works for our wands - mine, Lee's and George's," Fred said. "And it wouldn't help with the white ones anyway; we don't know their names. It's a family of five Muggles, killed by Death Eaters in Gaddley this week. Lee told us about them yesterday before you got here. The one with the Hogwarts castle is Bathilda Bagshot." He handed her his wand and she took it, passing it over the candles in the middle tier.

_Arabella Figg, Millicent Bulstrode_

"Wasn't she on the Inquisitorial Squad?" Angelina asked. "Slytherin?"

Lee nodded. "Her mother was Muggle-born," he said. "Arrested three months ago, hasn't been heard from since. Millie's been at the Ministry every day, trying to get information on her, but... she's scared. Doesn't know how long she's got before the Ministry decides to take her too, just to shut her up."

Angelina nodded, passing Fred's wand over some of the other candles.

_Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Katie Bell_

"You've got every member of the DA here," she said, swallowing past the ache in her throat.

Fred nodded. "We weren't sure about including Smith, remember him? The Hufflepuff prat. But we figured we'd give him the benefit of the doubt."

Angelina nodded, drawing in her breath as Fred's wand showed more names. _Arthur Weasley_, said one orange candle with plugs in the design. _Molly Weasley_, with a green and blue jumper. _Charlie Weasley_, his candle's fire spitting and smoking a little more fiercely than the others. _Ginny Weasley_, with a ruby-hilted sword. _Bill Weasley, Fleur Weasley_ - the only Weasley candle that wasn't orange, hers was a soft, glowing silvery white. _Fred Weasley, George Weasley_, bright orange with shocking magenta around the edges, emitting sparks every so often. She moved the wand again, blinked back tears. _Percy Weasley_, a Head Boy badge on the side of his candle. "Your entire family."

"All of us," said George quietly.

She swallowed hard. "I... I didn't know."

"Yeah. Well. Dark times." Fred gave her a small smile. "You take or make light wherever you can."

**9:30 am**

The shop was open, business was starting to pick up, and it was time to rejoin reality. Lee had already left, avoiding most of the Diagon Alley crowd. Angelina stopped at the front of the shop, gazing at Fred while he counted money at the till.

"Suppose I'd better go before there're too many people around," she said.

"Yeah." He finished counting up, and closed the till. "You'll be all right?"

"Yeah."

"Won't take any foolish chances? Bloody hell I cannot believe I keep saying that," he said ruefully.

"I won't."

"Right, then."

She hesitated, then bridged the distance between them, intending for her kiss to be casual, but somehow they ended up embracing passionately. She pulled back reluctantly, bothered that he was looking down, not meeting her eyes.

"You've still got your DA Galleon, right?" he asked her.

"Yeah, at home."

"Keep it on you."

"I will. You write to me, all right? If you can? Let me know how George's new line works out."

"I'll send you samples," he said seriously.

"Do that and I'll send you a Howler," she shot back, smiling. She gazed at him for another long moment, then took a deep breath, and Apparated out.

**10:30 pm**

Fred was still too quiet, thought George that night in their room at The Burrow. Reading through a supply contract, making markings in the margin. And damn it, he'd moped about long enough.

"Listen... are you all right?" he asked, feeling awkward. Fred glanced up at him.

"What?"

"You look ruddy awful, mate," he said. "Even Mum noticed."

"Didn't sleep much last night."

George gave him an "oh please" look and pulled up a chair, propping his elbows on Fred's desk.

Fred shrugged uncomfortably. "'M fine."

"So what... what happened?" Fred looked up. "Last night."

Fred looked back down. "You know what happened," he muttered.

"Was it... are you all right about it?"

"What's to not be all right about?" he said dryly. "I got to shag Angelina Johnson. More than once. Not exactly a hardship, is it? Oliver would kill to be in my place."

"You're not Oliver."

"Thank Godric. Puddlemere's going tits up this year."

George blew out his breath. "I think you're upset about it."

Fred put his quill down and sat back, staring at George impassively.

"And I think I know why."

"Enlighten me, then."

"Because you've had a thing for Angelina since you were fourteen, and you'd like what happened last night to happen again."

Fred looked away.

"And you know it's not going to." George winced as Fred flinched slightly. "Because you're an enormous git." Fred looked at him, startled. "Because if you were any kind of Gryffindor at all, you'd have asked her last night to make it more than a one-off."

"What, ask her to test out more of your products? Don't think she'd go for that."

George gave him a half-hearted smack.

Fred shrugged. "Look, so it happened. We both ate some of your bloody fairy cakes, they affected us, we ended up shagging. So what. Not a huge deal."

George snorted. "Your first time, not a huge deal. Tell me another one."

"Everybody has a first time. Even you might, some day."

George ignored the rather weak jibe. "It wasn't the way you wanted it to be."

"I got to shag a beautiful girl. More than once, even. I'd say that's not bad. Least I didn't have to pay for it."

"If that's all you wanted, you would've done it with her back at Hogwarts," George pointed out.

Fred shrugged. "Not the worst way to have a first time."

"Not the best, either. And I'll say it again. You wish it wasn't a one-off."

"Well, it was."

"Because you're a humongous coward and a twit. You should've asked her-"

Fred's jaw set. "What for? Things are better the way they are. We tried once, it didn't work, it's a good thing we're still friends."

"You want to try again, though."

"Where are you getting this from?"

"Twintuition."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Nice theory. Maybe I'm just tired, all right?" He scratched a few more lines onto the page.

"Why... why did you let her?" George asked curiously. "Erm, do you?"

Fred cleared his throat and looked down again. "She didn't feel any better once we'd, you know, the regular way. Wasn't exactly fair for me to feel better and her not to. Besides, 'm not such a coward as that."

George gazed at him, frustrated. "Are you still... did she hurt you? Physically, I mean?"

Fred blushed to the roots of his hair, and George dropped his eyes. One of the most annoying parts of being a redhead and a twin; they were hardly ever embarrassed, but when they were, it was so bloody visible. And contagious. He could feel his own face heating up.

Fred cleared his throat. "Not really." He cleared his throat again. "Not much. She was... erm. She wasn't rough or anything. I didn't mind. And discussing how my arse feels right now is actually not going to happen."

"You'd rather discuss how much of a git you are for being able to let her bugger you, but not having the balls to ask her to go out with you again?"

Fred crossed his arms defensively. "On second thought, let's go back to discussing my arse instead."

"Why the hell didn't you? Matter of fact, why the hell _don't_ you? Ask her."

"How? 'Hey, I know there's a war on and all, but d'you want to go out with me? While you're hiding on the Isle of Man and I'm in London and likely to be arrested at any time?' Don't be daft."

"Well obviously you'd need some help with the wording, if that's seriously the best you can come up with, but-"

"No," said Fred through gritted teeth.

"Why not?" George asked, frustrated beyond belief. "What's the worst thing that could happen? She'll say no? Then you haven't lost anything-"

"She could say yes, all right?!" Fred snapped, and now the rosy tint to his features wasn't embarrassment, but anger.

George blinked. "What?"

"She could say yes," Fred repeated sullenly. "And we could go out again. And then... she ditched me once, all right? Not looking for it to happen again."

"Why would she ditch you again?"

Fred glared at him. "'Looking for different things out of life, Fred,'" he said in, in a fairly passable imitation of Angelina's voice. "'Life's not all jokes, Fred. Too bloody annoying being part of a threesome, Fred.'"

"What?" George frowned. "I was part of why she broke up with you?"

"'Don't want to come second all the time, Fred,' she said, so yeah, I'd say you were part of it."

"So... bloody hell, if she was jealous that you spent too much time with me, why didn't you just spend more time with her?"

"Because I didn't want to, all right? I wasn't going to change my whole life just because-"

"But you've been in love with her forever, why wouldn't you-"

"Maybe I'm just not mature enough," he sneered.

George rolled his eyes. "Look, that was then, this is now, and-"

"Yeah, this is now. And now is not a good time for anything like this."

"Why not?"

"There's a war on, you might have heard about it? Little brother missing in action? Cupboard full of candles representing people we can't help in _any_ way, other than to light a bloody flame for them every night? Ring a bell?"

George waved dismissively. "Seize the day, then."

"No. Not with her. Afterwards, maybe..."

"There might not be an afterwards. You're the one who's pointed that out more than once."

"Aren't you the one who doesn't like dreary talk?"

George sighed. "Well if that's the case, why did you shag her in the first place? You said you wanted to wait for the right person, the right time. So why did you, last night?"

"Potent fairy cakes, George. You made them."

George nodded. "Yeah, and I know how potent they were. Not enough for you to go for it, if you really didn't want to."

"Fine." Fred looked away. "Well, like you said. Might not be an afterwards, might never be the right time."

"What about the right person?"

Fred coloured again and crossed his arms defensively. "Some day... some day you'll fall in love, and I'll take the mickey out of you," he muttered.

George chuckled. "Doubt it. I won't be as big a twit about it as you are." He gazed at Fred for a moment. "Look. You've been in love with her forever. All the excuses you've got are just that: excuses. You're acting like you're thirteen and getting all tongue-tied near a pretty girl. Bloody hell, you're making _Ron_ look like Don Juan." He elbowed his brother gently. "Have to grow up sometime, yeah?"

"So says the only virgin left in this room," Fred pointed out, and George groaned.

"Oh Godric. I've just let myself in for virgin jokes till I rectify the situation, haven't I?"

"Fair trade for forgetting to restock shrivelfig, I'd say."

George chuckled. "Don't tell me it was all that bad."

Fred shook his head.

George hesitated, feeling inexplicably awkward. "So what... what was it like?"

Fred picked up his quill again and started doodling on the parchment. "Best night of my life," he finally said quietly. "And one of the worst."

George gazed at him, a million questions tumbling over themselves in his mind.

What was it like, really?

Is it as brilliant as Lee goes on about?

Are you sorry you waited so long?

Do you wish you'd waited longer?

Are you glad it was with Angelina?

Are you sorry it was with Angelina?

And for one of the only times he could remember, he didn't feel like he could ask any of them of his twin. For one of the only times he could remember, he couldn't even guess at the answers.

There was a small silence, then Fred's quill stopped scratching the parchment for a moment. "Listen... if anything happens to me... take care of her, all right?"

George frowned. "What?"

"Just, you know. Be a friend. Make sure she's all right."

"Listen, you wanker, no dreary talk," said George uneasily. Bloody hell, ever since he'd lost his ear Fred got these moods every so often. "Nothing's going to happen to you, right?"

"You'd rather talk about my arse again?"

George sniggered. "Fine. I'll look out for her. I would no matter what happened to you." He paused. "You're not going to ask me to do that old thing where a brother was supposed to marry his dead brother's widow and name his son after him in order to keep his magic alive, are you?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Did you _ever_ wake up even once in History class? That's in the _Bible_, you berk. And it's keeping your brother's _name_ alive, not his magic." He shook his head, amused. "The wizarding version is you take your brother's wand, remove the core, and have a new wand made using the same core. And no, I wouldn't ask you to do that either. Honestly." He chuckled. "I'm just saying look out for her. Make sure she's all right."

"I will. And hands off, no worries."

Fred chuckled again. "Hands wherever they end up, mate. Always did wonder why she went for me and not you."

"What?"

Fred hesitated briefly. "When things started to go bad, she'd sometimes say things. As in, you weren't as loud. Or as obnoxious. I even asked her once why she didn't go out with you instead."

George's eyebrows shot up. "What did she say?"

"Think I got a jelly-legs jinx out of it. She wasn't in much of a mood to do any talking. It wasn't a high point for us," he said ruefully. He finished a last amendment to the supply contract. "All right. I think I'm done here. Let's go say goodnight and get ready for bed."

"All right." They got up and headed downstairs. "Sure you don't want me to go with Lee tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not," said Fred. "You owe me. Last time you did Potterwatch and Mum nearly killed me for letting you. This time _I_ get to brave Death Eaters and you get to deal with Mum's panic attack."

"Thanks," said George sourly. "No, really. Thanks a lot."

"And if you can break it to her that we need to leave early on Sunday to restock the shop, that'll be spiffing."

"Not a chance. We face that one together."

"Coward," Fred jeered.

"When it comes to Mum? Absolutely." He reached out a hand and stopped Fred on the landing. "All right, I promise I'll drop it as soon as I get this out. Just... at least send her an owl, all right? Doesn't have to be a huge declaration of anything, just... life's too short to miss out on something you want, for stupid reasons. Right?"

"Yeah."

"You'll send her an owl?"

Fred blew out his breath in annoyance. "Yeah, fine."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Good." George smiled. "Now let's say goodnight and go to sleep." He started back down the steps. "Because I swear, mate, you look totally shagged out."

Fred aimed a smack at his head and George dodged it, laughing, and headed down the stairs. Fred chuckled and followed him down.

**- End**

**ooo000ooo**

**Author's Note:** Not that it matters, but the thing about marrying your dead brother's widow is actually in the Bible. 'Strue. Deuteronomy 25:5-10. So those of us who rolled our eyes a bit (or... a lot) when JKR said that's what George did... I dunno, maybe we should direct our eye-rolling towards Deuteronomy instead ;)

**Author's Note 2:** This is how boring my law Professional Practice and Pedantry class was: I ended up drawing pictures of _all the candles in the whole blessed WWW niche_. In my defence, I have been trying to get used to working with colour for a long time, so it wasn't just idle doodling.

Also, the class was really, _really_ boring.

Anyway, for the curious, here they are:

Row 1 (missing & on the run) : i9 dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash a71 slash AnnaFugazzi slash Row1 dot jpg

Row 2 (in danger) : i9 dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash a71 slash AnnaFugazzi slash Row2 dot jpg

Row 3 (deceased) : i9 dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash a71 slash AnnaFugazzi slash Row3 dot jpg

the whole shebang : i9 dot photobucket dot com slash albums slash a71 slash AnnaFugazzi slash AllRows dot jpg

(don't forget to take out the spaces, and turn 'dot' to . and 'slash' to /)


End file.
